


To Everything There is a Season

by Janina



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Jon is melodramatic, Love, May/December Relationship, Sansa is older, Sex, Starklings, affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 65,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in London, 1835. Sansa is twenty-seven and a widow. She has no desire to marry again, after such a disastrous marriage. Finally, she is home, reunited with her family for her first season as a widow. </p><p>At twenty, Jon Targaryen isn’t in want of a wife, though he knows at some point he is expected to settle down. Being quite shy, Jon isn’t quite sure how to proceed with the ladies of the ton to begin with. Or even with people in general. </p><p>When they meet, neither one is prepared for what happens. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should note that I've made people related or unrelated as I've seen fit for the story. ;-)

**London, England 1835**

For better or worse, Sansa Hardyng nee Stark was in London with her family. Better, she supposed because she was with her family again after living in Paris for the past six years. Worse, because this was London during the Season and this meant she had to deal with the _ton_. 

She knew that when it came to the _ton_ , gossip was fast and hard and quick. Then they found something else to whisper about behind fans and playing cards and potted plants and what was the most fascinating gossip one minute was old news the next. 

However, she knew that attending the ball that evening with her family would stir the pot and dredge up the past. In many ways, this was almost like her first coming out: the nervousness, the fear of not being accepted, and the exhilaration of knowing a new adventure awaited her. 

Though at seven and twenty, and being a widow, she wasn’t looking for adventure. She was looking for some peace and quiet. Something the Starks were not in ready supply of. Her family was boisterous, and there was plenty of them. It was why she had been so happy to marry her now deceased husband. It had been a way out of the madness.

Now Sansa had a respect for the madness in a way she had not had before. Though she did prefer to live on her own in a townhouse not far from the Starks. For all of Harry’s faults, and there had been many, he did leave her with a considerable sum on which to live. It was quite a blessing that she had never managed to conceive a child so that she could live so comfortably. Besides, how would she have conceived when Harry preferred to spend most of his time in other women’s beds? 

Sansa embraced being a widow. Being a wife had been difficult. Her sister, Arya, had the right of it: do not marry at all. If she’d had the chance to do it all over again, Sansa wouldn’t have settled on Harry. She wouldn’t have settled at all. 

A scratch at the door drew Sansa out of her musings. “Come in,” she called out as she dabbed perfume behind her ears. 

“Votre famille est arrivée,” her maid said. 

“Merci,” Sansa replied. Her family had arrived to whisk her off to her first ball of the Season. 

Sansa stood, heaved a deep breath as she looked at herself one last time in the mirror, and then off she went. 

xxxxxxx

Jon Targaryen stood as deep into the corner of the Lannister ballroom as he could. He hated balls with a passion. 

“You cannot hide out here all night, Jon,” his brother Aegon said as he came up beside Jon and handed him a glass of punch. Jon was thankful for it. Walking across the ballroom meant drawing attention to himself and that was the last thing he wanted. 

“Want to make a wager on that?” Jon asked. 

“You know Daenerys will drag you out onto that dance floor herself if she has to.”

Jon looked at his brother with an arched brow. “Then I suppose it will be your job to keep her at bay.”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “You do know that eventually you will have to talk to people. Especially the ladies.”

“Says my older brother who should be looking for a wife first,” Jon said pointedly. 

Aegon sighed. “I have devoted myself to the task of finding a wife this Season. I just thought it might make things interesting – not to mention a bit more fun – if you and I attempted to make a match together.”

Jon shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Aegon threw his head back and laughed and Jon belted him in the stomach. “Quiet! You’ll draw attention this way.”

Aegon just shook his head. “You are hopeless.”

Jon shrugged. “I prefer to keep away from the insipid females these balls seem to be in an abundance of, and well, quite frankly, I am not a fan of people in general. I never know what to say to begin with…”

“It’s not that hard. They ask you questions and you answer.”

“And if they expect me to be the one asking questions?”

“Then you find something you want to know about them and ask.”

Jon sighed. “I’ve never met anyone I care to know anything about. People at these things are just so…shallow. It’s all about making a match and being seen. None of it is about having a real conversation.”

“And if you were to have a real conversation, what would it be about?”

Jon looked at him as though he should know the answer to that. “Books, of course.”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of bluestockings that are chomping at the bit for a husband.”

Jon made a face. “Do not say it like that. As if a learned woman is a terrible thing.”

Aegon shrugged and Jon just rolled his eyes. Jon knew that for all of Aegon’s bluster he would be bored stiff with any woman that could not add more to a conversation besides what was in fashion in hats. 

“I see the Starks have arrived,” Aegon said, nodding toward the entrance of the ballroom. “With Arya here now, you’ll have company in the corner.” Aegon pushed away from the wall. “Try to have some fun, brother.”

Jon leaned back against the wall and sipped his punch. He was certain Arya would find him eventually. Until then, he wasn’t going to move from this spot. 

xxxxxxxxxxx

“Arya, you will have to dance tonight,” Catelyn Stark told her youngest daughter as they set up camp on the outskirts of the dance floor. 

Arya sighed and looked to her sister for help. Sansa just laughed. “Do you think I have any sway when it comes to Mother?” she asked. “Just get them out of the way quickly.”

Catelyn narrowed her eyes without heat at Sansa. “Do not humor her.”

Ned, their father, just cleared his throat and looked down at Arya sternly. Arya and Ned had always been close, and Sansa sometimes wondered if it was because they looked so much alike. Arya had his dark hair, his thin nose, and his black looks when he was displeased (Arya was often more displeased than Ned). Sansa had inherited her mother’s auburn locks, pale skin, and high cheekbones. She’d also inherited her blue eyes, whereas Arya and Ned were brown-eyed. 

Sansa smoothed her green dress and peered out into the crowd. So far, no one had appeared to have noticed her. She feared the moment when they did.

“Do not worry, Sansa,” Ned said softly from beside her. “Relax. Everything will be fine. Our hosts know you are here, and they are fine with it.”

Sansa did relax some; her father had that effect on her. He was as steady as they came – so was her mother. She trusted them. She just wished she had trusted them when they’d advised her to think twice about marrying Harry. . . 

“Is Robb coming tonight with Talisa?” Sansa asked her father. 

“I believe he is,” Ned replied. “Ah, speak of the devil…”

Sansa beamed as she found her older brother Robb and his wife making their way towards them. She embraced her brother and his wife and then formed a bit of a circle as they chatted and caught up. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa spied Arya waving someone over in a very unladylike manner. She frowned and turned to face her sister. “Arya, do stop waving in such a manner,” Sansa said. “It’s not polite.”

Arya shot her a look. “I do not care.”

“Who are you waving at anyway?”

“My friend Jon,” Arya replied. “He’s found his corner for the night, but if I have to dance and be seen, then so does he.” And then she smiled at the man who approached. He wore all black, had dark curly hair that fell to his shoulders and had piercing gray eyes. He had a beard, though closely trimmed. He looked at Sansa as though startled, which put Sansa on guard. What would give him cause to look at her thus? Did he know about her? About Harry? Had Arya’s tongue been wagging or were there whispers behind her back after all? For heaven’s sake, she’d only been back for two days! 

Sansa lifted her chin. She was not going to let the _ton_ get to her. Let them say what they wanted. It wasn’t she that had multiple affairs. It was not her fault that Harry had been stupid and had gotten himself killed in a duel over a married woman. Oh, but she knew how fickle Society could be. How they laid blame at an innocent person’s feet simply for being related to the one that had caused the scandal in the first place. 

Sansa cleared her throat and nudged her sister with her elbow. Arya took the not so subtle hint and introduced Sansa and Jon. Arya used the title Lord Jon, but Sansa wasn’t sure to whom he was related. She curtsied as a lady was supposed to and Jon took her gloved hand in his and bowed.

Sansa pulled her hand away hastily and looked at her sister. “Remember what Mother said, Arya. You may have your fun, but you must dance as well.”

“I thought you were on my side,” Arya groused. 

“I am dearest, but I told you, I only have so much sway.” She smiled at her sister, nodded to Jon, and returned to Robb and Talisa. 

“I see you met Arya’s bosom friend,” Robb said once she’d returned. 

Sansa frowned. “Who is he?”

“He’s the youngest son of the Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryon. Their father is an earl. Jon has two siblings – Daenerys and Aegon. Daenerys is only a couple years older than Jon, and Aegon is four years older,” Robb explained. “Father has met with Lord Snow – that is, Rhaegar – often. He likes them very much. During that time, Jon and Arya became thick as thieves.”

“He looked surprised to see me,” Sansa said. “Almost as though he knew me. Does he know about me? About Harry?”

“I doubt Father would say anything, Sansa,” Robb said. “He does not like to talk about our business.”

“Arya?”

“Perhaps,” Robb shrugged. Then he grinned. “It was probably just the fact that you’re a lady who is not Arya that he had to talk to.”

Sansa cocked her head to the side. “Oh? He is shy?”

“Robb, be nice,” Talisa scolded gently. “Lord Jon is a perfectly kind gentlemen, but yes, he is rather shy. And studious, according to Arya. He’d prefer books and libraries to crowded ballrooms.”

“I can’t say as I blame him there,” Sansa said with a laugh. Once upon a time she had enjoyed all that Society had to offer. Now she found it stifling. 

Her smile fell as she noticed Lady Cersei Baratheon making her way across the floor and looking directly at Sansa with a smirk on her lovely and yet snooty face. 

Well, if ever there was a way to announce to Society that she was back in it, it would be courtesy of Lady Cersei. Sansa braced herself for the barrage of insults that were no doubt headed her way. 

“Sansa!” Lady Cersei said as though so very excited to see her. She even kissed Sansa’s cheek. “How are you doing, dearest? This must be quite strange for you after spending so much time in Paris.”

“It’s a bit like riding a horse. One never quite forgets,” Sansa replied. 

“At least here you don’t have to worry that much about running into one of your husband’s conquests. That must ease your plight considerably.”

And so the niceties were over. 

“Perhaps you should consider moving to Paris with your husband, Lady Cersei, so he does not have to worry about running into a few of yours,” Sansa said with a sickly sweet smile on her face. “Is he here, perchance? Or are evenings like this too much for the poor infirmed soul?”

Cersei’s smile fell and her expression darkened. She smoothed a bit of hair at her temple. “At least I can say my husband is accounted for.”

“Well, at his age I presume it is hard for him to move around so much, so yes, you can be sure of his whereabouts at all times. How comforting.”

Cersei stepped forward, murder in her eyes, and Robb stepped up in front of Sansa while Talisa pulled Sansa discreetly away towards Arya and Jon.

“Do you want me to punch her?” Arya hissed as she glared at Lady Cersei. 

“She’s had her fun,” Sansa said and patted Arya’s arm. “It’s over for now.” She smiled then when she saw Margaery Tyrell and Roslin Frey making their way across the ballroom. Now these two had been her closest friends, and from the smiles on their faces, not much had changed in that regard. “Excuse me,” she said, and glided forward to meet them.


	2. Chapter 2

Jon had never seem a woman as beautiful as Sansa. It had felt like a punch to his gut when he saw her. It was as though an angel had floated down from the sky. Now, as he stood there, staring at her while she talked with her friends, he began to recite poetry in his head. 

_She walks in beauty, like the night_  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that’s best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;  
Thus mellowed to that tender light  
Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 

Then Arya actually did hit him in the gut and he grunted. He scowled at her. “What was that for?”

She made a face at him. “Who are you staring at?”

Jon felt his face grow hot. “I’m not staring at anyone. Just looking around to see who is here.”

Arya didn’t look convinced. “Let’s go back to that corner you claimed earlier. I figure if I stay out of sight my mother will forget that she wanted me to dance with other gentlemen tonight.”

Jon frowned and scratched the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. On the one hand if he and Arya left the company of the Starks, he wouldn’t be able to…to what? Talk to Sansa? Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to talk to her. He wasn’t even sure he’d spoken when Arya had introduced them. But moving away from her meant not being close to her and he wanted to…to be _near_ her in order to, dare he think it - learn more about her. 

Arya hit him again. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

He charged ahead, and without looking where he was going. He knocked into a few people and when they turned to scowl at him, Jon reddened further and charged ahead again – this time, he watched where he was going. 

Once back in his corner, he pressed his back against the wall and attempted to calm himself. He darted a glance at Sansa. She hadn’t witnessed his faux paus; she was deep in conversation with those other women and hadn’t even noticed him. That seemed about right. He wasn’t exactly all that memorable now was he? 

“So, um, you’ve never really talked about your sister before,” Jon said as he forced his hands to his sides and not to fidget as he was wont to do when he was nervous. 

“She hasn’t had an easy go of it,” Arya said with a sigh. “She made a match rather quickly after her coming out. My parents approved it, but only because Sansa went on and on about how much she loved him. I think they hoped he’d prove them wrong and be a good man. But, he wasn’t.”

“He had affairs?”

Arya nodded. “Yes. Several. He was having an affair with a married woman this last time, and when her husband discovered them he challenged Harry to a duel. Harry was in his cups and was killed.”

Jon looked at Sansa. Now he understood why he’d seen such weariness in her eyes. “How old is she?” he asked. 

“Seven and twenty.”

She didn’t look it, at least not at first glance. There was a worldliness about her though, and the way she carried herself was nothing short of regal. 

Jon’s gaze drifted to his brother, whom he watched approach Robb Stark. The two chatted a bit and then Robb and Aegon made their way over to where Sansa was still chatting with her friends and Jon’s heart dropped. Of course. Of course his brother would want to meet Sansa, and of course Sansa would be taken with Aegon. Everyone was taken with Aegon. Where Jon was dark, Aegon was blond and fair and dashing. He charmed everyone who came in contact with him. Jon wasn’t at all charming, he was well aware of it. 

_It wasn’t as if you were going to do anything anyway_ , he thought. So, he slumped against the wall and listened to Arya make fun of all the vacuous people around them.

xxxxxxxx

The following afternoon found Sansa in good spirits. The ball had gone well after the Cersei debacle, mainly because she had been reunited with her old friends whom she had dearly missed while living in Paris. They’d picked up exactly where they’d left off, giggling together as though they were young debutantes again. 

Both of them were married now, but in happy marriages. When they asked Sansa if she would consider marrying again, she had not meant to laugh as hard as she did. No, she had told them, she would never shackle herself to a man again. 

“But what if you fell in love?” Roslin had asked. 

Love. What a concept. Sansa had always been in love with the idea of love, and that had led to her downfall with Harry. She’d built him up in her head as the dashing young man she’d fantasized about, and after about a month of being married to him she’d started to realize that her husband was not the man she’d built him up to be. 

She’d learned that the hard way when he started to leave her at home while he went out.

And then he wouldn’t return until morning. 

She remembered going through his drawers to find proof of his infidelity even though she knew it was happening, but hadn’t wanted to admit it. She’d found a necklace tucked away in a velvet box and had grown excited with the prospect of him surprising her with it. She’d had this fantasy of him putting it on her and declaring his undying love to her. 

And then three days later when they went to the theater, they’d shared a box with a couple of Harry’s friends and one of the married women with them was wearing the exact same necklace she’d found. When Sansa had confronted him later about it, he’d told her she was crazy. But Sansa had known he was lying. It had been written all over his face. 

So, love. Well, she had the love of her family. That was enough. 

And now she had her friends. Her friends with whom she was currently shopping with in the city proper. After perusing through baubles and frilly things, Sansa found herself breaking off from her friends while they picked out new bonnets, and wandering across the lane to the bookstore. Her mother had once given her a copy of “A Vindication of the Rights of Women” by Mary Wollstonecraft and she’d never read it. She wasn’t sure where it was anymore actually, and after not being able to find it at her parents’ house, she thought perhaps she should acquire a copy and finally read it. 

As she stepped in the bookstore, she inhaled the scent of paper and binding and felt a sense of calm wash over her. Bookstores and libraries reminded her of her parents and their steadiness. As a child, her parents were forever reading to her in front of a roaring fire in their home library. They were always purchasing books, too. Sansa had never been much of a reader, but lately she felt as though she needed something to do. Something productive. Perhaps Arya’s Lord Jon had the right of it with books. 

She turned down an aisle of bookcases and began to scan the shelves. She had just pulled _Kubla Khan_ and _Christabel_ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge from the shelf when he heard someone beside her clear their throat beside her. She looked over and found Jon, perusing the shelf before him.

“Oh, hello, Lord Jon,” she said. 

He looked over at her and cleared his throat again. “Oh, hello, Lady Arryn.”

“How are you this fine afternoon?” she asked politely. 

“I am well, thank you. And you?”

“Very well, thank you. I’ve been shopping with my friends and found myself wandering in here.”

He said nothing in return and Sansa wondered if he didn’t know what to say or just didn’t care to talk to her. If it was that he didn’t care to talk to her then that was too bad. Since her sister had spent the better part of last night with Jon in the corner of the ballroom, Sansa was curious about him. Young ladies did not spend too much time in the company of men unless it was for match making purposes, but Arya and Jon had clearly not cared. 

Sansa wondered if it was possible something else was amiss. When she’d asked Arya about it after the ball her sister had curled her nose up in disgust. “We are just friends, Sansa.” Perhaps that was the case on her sister’s end, but Sansa wondered if that was the case on Jon’s. 

“Perhaps you could help me,” Sansa said, searching for a way to keep conversing with him. “I’m told you enjoy reading a great deal.”

He nodded. “I—I do.”

“Wonderful. What do you think of my choices so far?” She held out the two books she’d picked out and he looked them over. 

“I do enjoy Coleridge quite a bit,” he murmured. “Some of his work is a bit harsh though…”

She arched a brow and smiled. “Do you think I cannot handle it?”

His eyes went wide. “Oh, no, Lady Arryn, I don’t mean to insinuate – that is, I think he’s an interesting read, it’s just that—”

Sansa bit back a laugh. “Lord Jon, I am teasing you. Perhaps you could help me? I’ve never been much of a reader.”

“You—you want me to help you find books to read?”

She nodded. “Please?”

“What do you think you’d like?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you choose a few you like and we can take it from there?”

He walked away from her and Sansa blinked. Had she said something wrong? Then he stopped at the end of the row and turned back to look at her. He looked a bit disgruntled, but she wasn’t sure if it was her he was disgruntled with or not. “Follow me please, Lady Arryn,” he said and disappeared around the corner. Sansa followed. 

Ten minutes later, Sansa and Jon stood before two stacks of books on an empty table Jon had found. 

Sansa laughed with delight. “My, that is quite a stack! Perhaps I won’t take all of them, but a few. There is one in particular I would definitely like to leave with today; I probably should have told you that before you pulled all these books for me.”

“Oh? Which one is that?”

“‘A Vindication of the Rights of Women’ by—”

“Mary Wollstonecraft,” Jon finished. “Yes, I am familiar with it. Hold on. I’ll find it for you.”

While Jon went to retrieve the book, Sansa began to peruse through the stack of books he’d selected. She had selected three when he’d returned. He handed her the book and she added it to the stack of books she planned to take. 

He dug into the pocket of his coat and retrieved a pencil and a little notebook. “I never leave home without this. We’ll just jot down the titles of the books you don’t take.”

“How nice.” She pointed to the stack of books she planned to take. “That’s my pile.” Jon pulled the chair that was tucked under the table and turned the books so that he could see their titles. While he wrote, Sansa went to pay for her books. When she returned, he handed her a few sheets of paper and she tucked them into one of her books. 

“Thank you, Lord Jon. I appreciate your help,” Sansa said. “Does Arya come here often with you?”

“No, not very often,” he mumbled.

“Tell me, what else do you enjoy besides reading?”

“I, um, I like to write.”

“Oh.” She nodded to the notebook he held in his hand. “Do you write in that?”

“Yes, when I want to remember something, or if a line of poetry comes to me.”

“So you like to write poetry.”

He nodded. “I’m not very good at it, but yes.” 

“Have you shared your work with Arya?”

He went red. “Once. She laughed at me.”

“Oh, how awful! I imagine ones writing is quite close to their heart. Almost like tearing open a vein. It must take great courage, I wager, to share it.”

He looked at her almost in wonder. “Yes, that’s exactly it.” He looked away and then cleared his throat and looked at her again. “The only activity we both enjoy is fencing.”

Sansa smiled. “That sounds like Arya. Do you often find time to fence together?”

“Mostly when our families visit one another.”

A knock on the window of the bookstore drew Sansa’s attention away. Roslin and Margaery waved for her to come out, big smiles on their faces and hat boxes on their arms. “My friends are waiting for me,” Sansa said. “Thank you again, Lord Jon, for your help. Perhaps the next time I see you I will be able to discuss with you what I’ve read.”

“I—I would like that, Lady Arryn.”

“Good day, Lord Jon.”

“Good day, Lady Arryn,” he said softly. 

Jon watched her leave the bookshop and then meet up with her friends. He walked to the window and peered out of it, continuing to watch her walk down the lane until she was well out of sight. 

He’d seen her when she’d come in, and it almost felt as though he’d conjured her there. He had been thinking about her after all. His instinct had been at first to hide, to not allow her to see him lest she want to speak to him. He feared being utterly tongue-tied in her presence. He’d thought then: What would Aegon do? Simple: Aegon would go right up to her, say something flirtatious, and engage her in conversation. 

Jon compromised. He came up beside her, but didn’t speak. He’d cleared his throat instead, shuffled his feet a bit, and let her make the discovery that he was there. He’d broken out in a cold sweat doing it, but it had been worth it. What was it Aegon had said about talking to someone? _“It’s not that hard. They ask you questions and you answer.”_

Sansa had asked a lot of questions and he’d answered every single one of them. It wasn’t as hard to talk to her as he thought it would be either. It helped, of course, that she’d asked his advice on books. 

The beginnings of a poem came to mind: 

_In a city devoid of color_  
Only one bloomed bright.  
Her name was Sansa  
And she stole the light. 

Jon opened his notebook and quickly jotted the lines down. He would think on the rest on his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this image in my head of a shy Jon trying to get Sansa to notice him standing there. It gave me a chuckle.


	3. Chapter 3

“Do you plan to ever leave this room today?” Daenerys Targaryen asked as she entered the library and looked at Jon pointedly. 

He was hunched over his desk, a desk he had purposely put in front of the window so that when he wrote or read, he would have a view of outside. Not that he had much to look at save for the street and occasional passerby’s, but it made him feel better to have a view of the outside. It made him feel like less of a recluse. Sometimes, he even opened the window. 

He shrugged and went back to his notebook. Then he heard Dany coming closer and he slammed his notebook shut and looked up at her as she approached. His sister smiled prettily at him and Jon was immediately on the defensive. His hand curled around his notebook tightly. His sister delighted in teasing him and if she read his latest attempt at poetry, she would never let him live it down. 

Her full lips curled into a smile and her eyes danced with mirth. “What are you working on?”

“Nothing.”

“Then show me.”

“No.”

Dany rolled her eyes. “Aegon and I want to go for an ice at Gunter’s. Would you like to come with us?”

Jon frowned and looked outside. 

“Yes, Jon, outside. Where the people are. Where fresh air is,” Dany said. 

Jon shot her a look. “You make it sound as though I never go outside. I do.”

“Opening the window doesn’t count.”

He sighed. “I will go then, if it’ll make you happy and stop your pestering.” 

She beamed at him. “It will make me happy, but I can’t promise it will stop my pestering.”

“I prefer the country,” Jon said as he slipped his notebook in the breast pocket of his jacket.

“I know you do, but there is still fun to be had here. You can still take Keats for a ride in Hyde Park, you could have Aegon take you to one of his gentlemen’s clubs, and you could take a walk down to the Thames.”

“Yes, sister dear,” Jon said and got up. He didn’t bother to tell her that after a day spent doing any of those things he always felt dirty. Too much dust and smog, and too many people. He wouldn’t mind the people so much if everything one did didn’t have that feeling of being put on display. People didn’t go to Hyde Park to simply take in the fresh air and feed the ducks. They went to see others and to be seen. Feeling as though your every move was being watched did not lend itself to relaxation. Instead of getting into it with Dany who had a love/hate relationship with London herself (yet seemed to lean more toward love than hate), he offered his arm to her. “Shall we?”

Dany smiled at him and slipped her arm through his. “We shall.”

“Tell me, are there any developments with any of your suitors? I have been remiss in keeping up on them.”

“Ah, well, yes. I’ve decided that should Lord Khal ask for my hand, I will accept him.”

“Not Lord Mormont?”

Daenerys made a face and then shook her head as they made their way out of the library and down the hall. “He’s too old for me. I know he cares for me, and I do like him a great deal, but I could not ever love him.”

“And Lord Khal?”

She smiled, a dreamy expression on her face. “I could definitely love him. I think I already do.”

“I like him. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but in the few conversations I’ve had with him, he is quite thoughtful. I like that,” Jon said. “And I can tell that he cares for you a great deal.”

She looked up at him with an excited and eager smile. “Truly, Jon? You’re not just saying that?”

“Since when do I just say anything?”

She laughed and nodded. “This is very true.”

“What are you two commiserating about?” Aegon said as he came upon them. “Are you coming with us to Gunter’s, Jon?”

Jon nodded. “I am.”

“We were talking about suitors, specifically Lord Khal,” Dany told him. 

“I see. Has he made his offer yet?” 

“Not yet, but I’m certain he will.” She squeezed Jon’s arm almost for reassurance and he smiled at her and winked. She looked up at Aegon expectantly. “What about you, Aegon? Any prospects this Season?”

Aegon smirked. “Well, there is the Lady Arryn.”

Jon’s smile dropped. 

“Arya’s sister, right Jon?” Dany asked. 

Jon nodded, his eyes still on Aegon. 

Aegon grinned in a manner that could only be described as lecherous. Jon couldn’t say he liked it. 

“She’s quite beautiful,” Aegon said as he turned and headed towards the front door. Jon and Dany followed. 

“Is that all you can say about her?” Jon asked, hoping he didn’t sound as annoyed as he felt. Granted, that had all Jon could focus on when he met her the first time too. Sansa was stunning, there was no getting around that. However, after talking with her in the bookstore a few days prior, he had also found her kind, easy to talk to, and intelligent. Plus, she had understood what Arya had failed to understand: when one shares their written words with you, you do not laugh at them. 

“For now,” Aegon said with a grin. “She seemed a bit standoffish with me.”

 _Perhaps your charms do not work on her_ , Jon thought. _Do you even know what she has been through?_

While Jon did not know everything that had happened in Sansa’s marriage, it stood to reason that having been cheated on several times in a marriage made one wary. If Sansa had loved her husband then what could it have done to her? How had it changed her? What had she been like before?

Now he had questions for her. Questions he’d probably never be able to ask, but that he would wonder about. And, as a writer, he could not stop himself from letting his imagination run with it. He imagined Sansa as Dany was now – happy, excited about the prospect of marriage with a man she loved, and just generally looking forward to a new chapter of her life. Then to have those dreams dashed, to know that your husband was straying. Had she laid in bed at night and imagined him in the arms of another woman? 

Jon watched Dany chatter away to Aegon and he made a mental note to have a talk with Lord Khal should he ask for Dany’s hand. If he did to Dany what Sansa’s late husband had done to her, Jon would kill him. 

xxxxxx

It was a beautiful day out, and Jon decided he would take a page out of Aegon and Dany’s book and just enjoy it. He currently was, too, after enjoying his ice, he lifted his gaze to the sky while the conversations around him were reduced to a hum. 

“I say, Lord Robb!” Aegon called out, causing Jon to start at the abrupt shout. 

“Hello, Lord Aegon!”

Jon looked to the side as a curricle rumbled up alongside theirs. His gaze fell right on Sansa and his breath caught. She smiled at him, her blue eyes sparkling with good humor. Jon’s pulse quickened as he smiled back at her. 

Dany and Aegon climbed down from the curricle, so Jon followed suit, his heart hammering at the thought of possibly being able to speak with Sansa again. Robb helped his wife climb down from the carriage and Jon watched Aegon extend a hand to Sansa. She smiled politely at him and accepted his assistance. Jon wondered if it was his imagination that her smile was different for Aegon than it had been for him. 

He watched her as Aegon spoke and there was a definite…guardedness about her. Aegon didn’t seem to pick up on it as he blathered on and Jon found himself growing annoyed with his brother. Robb, thankfully, drew Aegon’s attention away and as Aegon excused himself from Sansa’s presence, Jon made his way over to her. 

“Hello, Lady Arryn,” he said. “How does this afternoon find you?”

“Wanting to return to the books I purchased, Lord Jon,” she said. “I am in the middle of Frankenstein, and I find I am quite taken with it. I even shed a few tears already.”

“Oh? For whom? Victor or the creature?”

“The creature of course. I find Victor to be quite…” as she appeared to search for the word her gaze fell on Aegon and then she looked back at Jon, “arrogant.”

Jon wondered if that was coincidental. “Victor is quite arrogant believing he can play God by creating a man.”

“And then to reject him!”

Jon laughed softly. “Yes, it is hard to conjure up any sort of feeling for him isn’t it?”

“Yes. One can see how awful it was for the creature to be turned away by the man that had created him. He didn’t ask for such a thing; it was a thing that had been thrust upon him.”

Jon enjoyed the passion she displayed – in her voice and the slight bloom of red on her cheeks. “Tell me, have you gotten to the bit with the DeLacey’s yet?”

“I am there now, but have not finished.” She bit her lip and looked genuinely worried. “Does it end terribly?”

Jon had been in the presence of interesting and beautiful women before. He’d even wondered what it would be like to kiss them. He had kissed one once, a lady of the night that his brother had taken him to see to “gain experience”, but he had never wanted to kiss a woman as much as he wanted to kiss Sansa in that moment. 

“Just keep reading,” he told her, and to his ears he sounded almost hoarse. 

“I have been thinking,” she began, “That I am in want of something to do. Something…productive. Something to perhaps broaden my horizons and further my current interest in reading.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked. 

“A book club. My mother had one when I was a young girl, and I remember it was quite successful. It was made up of mostly ladies, but I do remember my father sitting in on a couple meetings. I thought perhaps I would start one. Would you be willing to join, Lord Jon? Or, if not—”

“Yes,” he blurted out. “I would like to join your book club.”

She beamed at him and he felt it again, that urge to kiss her. To draw her close and breathe her in…

“Then perhaps you could help me start it?” she asked. 

“Of course.”

“Excellent.”

“Sansa, are you ready?” Robb asked as he came upon them. 

She looked up at her brother and frowned slightly. “Yes, I suppose I am.” She looked back at Jon. “Perhaps you could visit me at my parents’ tomorrow afternoon and we could discuss it further? I’ll be sure to tell Arya you’re coming so she can join us.”

Arya, Jon knew, wouldn’t have much interest in a book club. “What time would you like me to come?”

“Perhaps one o’ clock? We’ll have tea.”

Jon felt the urge to reach out to her and touch some part of her – her arm, her hand – anything. Instead he bowed, said a hasty good-bye and returned to his siblings. 

Aegon quirked a brow at him when Jon returned to the curricle and sat down. “What were you and Lady Arryn discussing so animatedly?”

Jon forced himself not to smile. He didn’t want to give anything away to his brother. “I ran into Lady Arryn a few days ago at the bookstore. She was looking for books, and I helped her pick some."

"You ran into her at the bookstore?" Aegon asked. "Did she mention me?"

"No."

"Oh."

"She would like to start a book club now and asked if I would be interested in helping her start one. I said yes.” 

“Of course you did,” Dany said with a roll of her eyes. 

“Will you be joining this book club as well, Jon?” Aegon asked. 

“Of course. Lady Arryn would like to open it to men and women.”

“Well then, I just might join,” Aegon said and snapped the reigns. The curricle lurched forward and Jon now had to force himself not to scowl. 

“This is not a book club designed for you to court Lady Arryn,” Jon told him, hoping he didn’t sound as irritated as he felt. “This is a book club in which we will actually read and discuss them.”

“I might not always have my nose in a book like you, Jon, but I do read,” Aegon said. 

“The newspaper does not count,” Jon shot back. 

“I read books too,” Aegon snapped. 

“Will Arya be joining this club?” Dany asked. 

Jon sighed and shrugged. “I’m not sure. I doubt it. It does not seem like her sort of thing.”

“Will she mind, do you think, that you will help plan and join her sister’s book club?”

Jon’s brows furrowed as he looked down at his sister. “Why would she mind?”

Dany shrugged. “Well, it just seems to me that perhaps she might be a little jealous.”

“Why would she be jealous?”

Dany sighed and shook her head, looking almost sad. “Oh, Jon. You can be so naïve sometimes.” She didn’t expound on that and instead started asking Aegon about some upcoming ball and Jon was left to wonder (and worry) about why Arya would be jealous.


	4. Chapter 4

“Tell me again why you need Jon’s help to start a book club?” Arya asked as she watched her sister set out scones and macaroons for Jon’s arrival. 

Bran and Rickon came barreling in the room and each attempted to stuff as many macaroons in their mouths as possible.

“No, no, no, don’t you two dare!” Sansa scolded and started for them. They each snagged a scone and ran off. In fact, they ran right into Jon who had just arrived. 

They kept going, laughing on their way outside. Sansa sighed and rushed forward. “Lord Jon, I’m so sorry for my brothers. Are you all right?”

He smiled at her in that warm way he had, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “I know all about Bran and Rickon, Lady Arryn. That’s not the first time I’ve been barreled into by them.”

“Come in, please, tea will be brought up shortly,” she said and stepped to the side for him to enter. 

He gestured for her to go first and Sansa smiled and moved further into the room. “Arya, Lord Jon is here.”

“For cripes sake, Sansa, just call him Jon. Everyone else does,” Arya said with a roll of her eyes. 

Sansa clenched her jaw and looked at Arya in annoyance. “Arya…”

“It’s all right, Lady Arryn, you may call me Jon,” he said gently. 

Sansa smiled at him apologetically. “Thank you…Jon. You may call me Sansa.”

“Sansa,” he repeated slowly. He looked at her, his eyes bright with something that made Sansa a bit uncomfortable. It was a look she’d seen before on men. It was the look Harry had given her when he’d started courting her. 

Thankfully, the maid came in with the tea things then and Sansa was momentarily distracted with instructing her where to put the tray. Arya nattered on while Sansa poured the tea.

“Pardon me, Arya,” Sansa said. “How would you like your tea, Jon?”

“Two sugars, please.”

“So why couldn’t we just meet at your house, Sansa?” Arya asked after Sansa had handed Jon his tea. 

Sansa sat down and picked up her tea as she answered. “I was planning on being here today to help Mother plan for the ball she’s having—”

“A ball?!” Arya exclaimed. “Oh, bugger.”

“Arya, for heaven’s sake, please watch your language,” Sansa said exasperatedly. 

“Why?”

“We have company!”

“It’s only Jon,” Arya said with a roll of her eyes. 

Jon cleared his throat and put his tea down on the table before them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some papers. “I made a list of books and ideas for the book club,” he said. 

_How thoughtful_ , Sansa thought as she put her own tea down on the table. She frowned when Arya grabbed the papers from his hand. Jon looked annoyed and he cleared his throat again and said, “Arya, may I please have my papers back?”

“Hold on just a—”

“Please,” Jon said, a bit more sternly this time. 

Arya handed them over. _He knows how to handle Arya well_ , Sansa thought, and tucked that away for later. 

“Who are you going to get to join your club outside of Jon?” Arya asked. 

“Anyone who would like to. I can put a notice in the paper announcing it,” Sansa said. “Plus, I’m sure Roslin and Margaery will join—”

“Do those two read anything other than the gossip papers and fashion magazines?”

Sansa’s temper sparked again, but she tried to not let it show. “Roslin and Margaery are not the same people they were before, Arya. People can change.”

Arya shrugged. “And for men? Besides Jon?”

“I will leave that to Jon,” Sansa said and tried to smile at him. Arya was making this difficult and here she’d thought that the three of them would have a nice conversation and plan a book club together. All the while, Sansa wanted to be able to observe Jon and Arya together and ascertain if there was something between them. She might not be able to stop her parents from pushing Arya into marriage, but she could help her sister make the right match. So far she liked Jon, but she wanted to get to know him a bit better to be able to judge his character and the type of man he was. 

Harry had seemed all things good and pure and that had turned out to be a facade and a manipulation. She’d met other men whom she’d thought were kind and trustworthy and they’d proved her wrong too. In fact, Jon’s brother Aegon seemed rather reminiscent of them all. She didn’t trust him one whit. He was just like Harry – all smiles, all charm, and perfectly polished. 

Sansa wasn’t impressed. 

“Jon doesn’t really have many friends,” Arya said. “Just Sam, and he’s very shy. You’ll be lucky to get him to talk at all.”

“Arya, it doesn’t matter the quantity of friends one has, only the quality,” Sansa said. “I do not care if we start small. I do not care if we remain small. I just want to start something fun and engaging for all of us to enjoy.”

Arya shrugged and sighed. “Fine then. Let’s have a look at Jon’s notes then.”

xxxxxxx

Two hours later and Sansa’s head ached. It had a name too, and its name was Arya. She loved her sister dearly, she truly did, but in the time she’d been away she’d forgotten how Arya’s constant stream of opinions was grating. She had shot down almost everything Sansa had suggested. 

“I think we can stop now,” Sansa said and rubbed her forehead. She got to her feet and Jon stood as well. “If you’ll excuse me I think I need some air. I will leave the door open if you two would like to visit,” she said and looked pointedly at Arya. She smiled at Jon wearily. “Good day, Jon. Thank you for your help and your ideas. I’m sure with your help it will be a success.”

And then she walked away before either one could say anything. 

Jon scowled at Arya after Sansa had left. 

“What is it?” Arya demanded. 

“You were hard on your sister. And for no apparent reason,” he said. 

“She’s not exactly easy on me,” Arya groused. “She’s always telling me how to behave. How to talk, how to sit, how to stand, how to behave. She still treats me like the green girl I was when she left.”

“Is that what bothers you? That she does not realize you’ve grown since then?”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Bloody hell, Jon, I don’t care.” She sighed. “She was always such a lady. She never spoke up even when she should have. I don’t want to end up like her. Married to some sod that cheats on me and have no means of escape. If I know Sansa, she just took it. Never said boo to him even when she should have.”

“You don’t know that,” Jon said softly. “You don’t know what she’s been through. Have you asked her?”

Arya narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t forget that you’re _my_ friend, Jon.”

_“Well, it just seems to me that perhaps she might be a little jealous.”  
“Why would she be jealous?”  
Dany sighed and shook her head, looking almost sad. “Oh, Jon. You can be so naïve sometimes.”_

Bloody hell. Was this what Dany had meant? Was Arya jealous? Did she suspect that he found himself quite…infatuated with Sansa? Had Arya set her cap for him and Jon hadn’t known it all this time? Or was it just that they got on well that bothered Arya and she was just being territorial over him as her friend?

“Why can’t I be her friend too?” he asked. 

“She’s too old for you,” Arya said and stood up. “I’ll show you out.”

She was annoyed with him. Jon didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t have experience dealing with a jealous woman before. He rather felt at a loss. He hadn’t expected this turn of events. And while he wanted to seek Sansa out and find out if she was all right after their meeting, he also didn’t want to upset Arya. 

He let Arya show him out and when he returned home he penned Sansa a quick note only to toss it in the fire afterwards. Receiving a note from him, no matter how innocent, could be considered much too solicitous if discovered. Arya would have a fit and who knew what Sansa would glean from it. 

Dany entered the library then and she stopped abruptly when she saw him standing before the fire. “You look upset. What troubles you?”

“Nothing troubles me,” he muttered. 

“Jon. I can tell when you’re upset. What is it?”

He looked at her and hesitated. He had always been much closer to Dany than Aegon, and Aegon was decidedly the last person he could speak to on this matter. “If I tell you, you must promise not to tell anyone. Especially Aegon.”

Dany’s eyes went wide. “Oh. This is quite serious then.”

“It is. If you can’t promise then I cannot tell you.”

She came over and sat down on the chaise lounge. “You can tell me, Jon. I promise not to tell a soul. What is it?”

“I have found myself…enamored with a lady.”

Dany smiled knowingly. “Lady Arryn?”

Jon’s brow furrowed. “You know?”

“It wasn’t so hard to guess. I watched you yesterday when you spoke to her. I’ve seen you around other ladies, Jon. You had a look I’d never seen on you before. Plus, there was the way you reacted to Aegon when he expressed interest in joining your book club.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me after?”

She shrugged. “I know how private you are. I figured if there was something you wanted to discuss you would eventually tell me.”

He sighed. “I met with Sansa—”

“First name now?”

He nodded. 

She gestured for him to continue. 

“I met with Sansa and Arya today regarding the book club. Arya was…awful to Sansa. She had a critique for everything that came out of Sansa’s mouth and afterwards, when Sansa departed and I was alone with Arya, I asked her about it. The reasons are not important, but it was what she said after. That I was her friend, and to remember that. When I asked her why I couldn’t also be Sansa’s friend she said she was too old for me.”

“Lady Arryn is older than you, Jon. She’s been married and lived a life you know nothing about. She’s a widow and has begun a new chapter of her life. You are of the age where you are expected to start a chapter in which Lady Arryn has already experienced. It is as I suspected with Arya, that she would be jealous if she perceived any interest on your behalf for her sister. She is quite perceptive, that one. If I was able to pick up on it, I suppose she would as well.”

“I am not in love with Arya. I am not in love with anyone,” Jon protested. “I can’t help how I feel about Sansa. I can’t help but be attracted to her.” He balled his hands into fists. “I do not want to lose Arya as my friend, but I…I don’t want to stop being in the company of Sansa when I can.”

“Well then. It seems you are in quite the pickle. Nothing can come of your infatuation with Lady Arryn, Jon. Surely you understand that.”

Jon raked a hand through his hair. “I suppose.”

“You are a young man poised to begin a life with a woman whom you’ll grow a family with. Lady Arryn is not that woman. Can you imagine Father agreeing to such a match? He would not. You’ve no idea how different your lives are. You share a love of reading and Arya. That is all. She is quite beautiful and from what I’ve been able to tell – kind. But she is not for you, Jon. You would do best to keep your distance until this infatuation fades. You do not want to risk the scandal – and it would be one – nor do you want to risk your friendship with Arya.”

What was it about Dany telling him that nothing could come of his infatuation with Sansa that made him want to prove the exact opposite? He didn’t like this idea that something was barred from him just because he might lack some understanding of it. He wanted to understand Sansa. He wanted to learn more about her. He wanted to know…everything. When was the last time he wanted to know everything about another person? 

The answer was never. 

Yet he didn’t want to lose Arya as his friend or cause any problems between the sisters. Nor did he wish to create a scandal for himself or for Sansa. She’d had enough of that no doubt. Besides, what did he envision exactly happening between them? Marriage? No. An affair? He wasn’t the type. 

He sighed, resigned, and nodded. “Yes, you’re right, Dany. Thank you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this addresses some questions about Aegon's suitability for Sansa versus Jon's... I hope lol.

“So tell me about this book club,” Aegon said a few nights later to Jon while the family ate dinner together. “If Lady Arryn is at the ball tomorrow night I want to be able to talk to her about it.”

Jon kept his features schooled into one of blankness so as to not give away the fact that he was annoyed by the question. Plus, he could feel Dany watching him closely.

“What exactly is your interest in Lady Arryn?” Jon asked. “Marriage? Or are you just having your fun?”

“Jon, honestly,” Lyanna, their mother, scolded gently. 

“It is a good question, however,” their father, Rhaegar said. 

Aegon cleared his throat. “I find her interesting, not to mention quite beautiful. If we got on well enough, I do believe I could marry her.”

“She was married for quite a while, no?” Lyanna asked. 

“Five years,” Jon answered. “One year was spent in mourning.”

“And no children?” Rhaegar asked. “That is a concern, Aegon. You need an heir.”

“Her husband was a philanderer,” Jon said softly. 

“So, he wasn’t visiting her bed,” Rhaegar said. 

Jon’s jaw clenched. Leave it to his father to put it so bluntly. He didn’t like them discussing Sansa as nothing more than a potential broodmare for Aegon.

“Rhaegar,” Lyanna sighed, clearly annoyed by the topic as well. 

“We have to think practically, Lyanna,” Rhaegar said. “Or at least Aegon does. No child produced after five years of marriage is worrisome. He was the heir; he had to have visited her bed out of duty at least. It is quite possible she’s barren.”

“Or perhaps she didn’t want to have a child with a man that couldn’t be faithful to her and took steps to prevent conception,” Jon blurted out. 

There was a clatter of silverware against plates (his mother dropped her fork) and everyone stared at Jon in wide-eyed shock. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine. “I am just saying that it is possible.”

“It would have been her duty to bare him a child,” Rhaegar protested. 

“A child might have provided her with company,” Lyanna pointed out. 

“And then what?” Jon asked. “He sets her and the child up in some country estate tucked away to rot where he doesn’t have to see them and he can go on carousing? Why would she want a child if that was to be her fate?” He looked at Aegon. “If that is your plan for Lady Arryn, then I would not pursue her. She has already endured one husband’s infidelity, she does not need to endure another.”

“Besides,” Dany began, “she is able to live quite comfortably now with the money she inherited from her late husband. Why would she want to saddle herself to any man at this point and lose her hard-earned freedom?”

That, Jon figured, was as much for Aegon’s benefit as for his. 

“Why do you automatically assume that I would unfaithful to her?” Aegon demanded of Jon, looking completely annoyed with his brother. “For the right woman I could be faithful.”

“Could you?” Jon challenged him. 

“Jon, may I ask why you are defending Lady Arryn so passionately?” Rhaegar asked. 

“She is Arya’s sister—”

“Lady Arryn and Jon have decided to begin a book club, Father,” Aegon said and sat back in his seat with a smirk. “I believe Jon fancies himself a close friend of hers now.”

“Men and women cannot truly be friends,” Lyanna muttered. “Not at least without the benefit of marriage first.”

“I am friends only with Arya,” Jon said. 

Lyanna and Rhaegar exchanged meaningful looks. Looks that aroused Jon’s ire. “We are,” he protested. “I do not have any desire to marry Arya.”

“You may have no choice if your brother doesn’t take a wife soon,” Rhaegar said and looked at Aegon pointedly. 

“I know what my duties are,” Aegon said, “And they will be done.”

“With Lady Arryn?” Lyanna asked with a slight frown. “She did receive enough of an inheritance to live quite comfortably, but are you sure you want a widow and not a maid?”

“I think he’s had enough maids already,” Rhaegar drawled. “Perhaps Lady Arryn could bring him to heel. If her inheritance is large enough, that could be a boon for us.”

Jon’s hands tightened around his fork. Now they were reducing Sansa to what she could do for them financially. And it wasn’t as though they were hurting for money either. 

“Wouldn’t that be something – a woman bringing me to heel?” Aegon replied and then his eyes narrowed at Jon. “That is, if I can get past the fire-breathing dragon that protects her so fiercely.”

“It is just that we are so close with the Starks,” Dany chimed in. “Jon just doesn’t want to do anything that might ruin our friendship with them, right Jon?”

“Of course,” Jon said tersely. 

“I think perhaps you should keep your options open,” Rhaegar told Aegon. “You may court Lady Arryn, but I’d like for you to consider other ladies as well. No need to put your eggs all in one basket.” He sipped his wine. “And be quick about it.”

“Yes, sir,” Aegon murmured. 

Jon sat there, silently fuming. Dany looked at him sadly and Jon looked away from her and took a long sip of his wine. He wanted to leave the table, but he feared if he did he would show his hand. Though, by the way Aegon was looking at him so skeptically, he had a feeling he already had. 

xxxxxxxxxx

For once, Jon didn’t mind attending a ball. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but he wasn’t dreading it as he normally did either. He was eager to see Sansa despite the fact that Dany had warned him away from her, and his father had given Aegon his approval to court her. Jon knew his brother could be quite charming, especially with the ladies. However, that did not mean that Sansa would find herself taken with Aegon. 

“Tonight I will ask Lady Arryn, Lady Ygritte, and Lady Val to dance,” Aegon said in the carriage on the way to the ball. 

Jon said nothing.

“And you, Jon? Whom will you ask to dance?” Aegon asked him. Then he laughed. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t dance.”

“Perhaps I will ask Lady Arryn to dance as well,” Jon said and narrowed his eyes at his brother. 

Aegon leaned forward. “Tell me, brother, do you have a true interest in Lady Arryn?”

“If I did?”

Aegon grinned. “A young pup as yourself?”

“I’m not that young, Aegon,” Jon hissed. 

“You’re practically a green boy still. It would be a mismatch if there ever was one. She’d eat you alive.”

“And not you?” Jon snapped. 

Aegon sat back and laughed. “Doubtful. I am much more experienced with women than you are, Jon. I could handle her. You could not. You don’t even leave the corner of the ballroom!”

“So much for Father thinking she could make you heel.”

“Must we argue?” Dany asked on a sigh.

Silence fell, and silent it remained until they arrived at the ball. 

xxxxxxxxx

_“I am just saying that I do not wish for you to live your days alone, Sansa,” Catelyn said to Sansa that afternoon before the ball at the Martell’s._

_“I am hardly alone with all of you,” Sansa said lightly._

_“But you live in that townhouse all by yourself.”_

_“I prefer it that way.”_

_“Do you? You hardly ever spend any time there. You are always here.”_

_Sansa sighed. “I’ve missed you all. Even Arya.”_

_Catelyn looked at her knowingly. “You’re lonely. It won’t be long before that townhouse is too much for you. All I am saying is consider the idea of marriage again. You have benefit of experience now. They’re not all Harry, Sansa.”_

_“And give my independence up to some man who will take the money I earned?”_

_“Earned?”_

_“Yes. Earned. I earned that money knowing just what my husband was doing. He didn’t just leave for a night here and a night there, Mother. He left for weeks. He made it clear he didn’t want me. I became quite accomplished at needlepoint and the piano. I despise both now. So, no, I have no desire to marry again.”_

_Catelyn patted the side of her face and nodded, looking sad. Her mother believed in love still; Sansa did not._

It was probably the memory of that conversation still fresh in her mind that caused Sansa to eye Aegon a bit warily as he approached. 

It was also probably what prompted her to turn him down flat when he asked if she would dance with him. 

“May I ask why?” he asked, and she could see the cracks in his charm already. He didn’t like being told no and his smile was now decidedly less…solicitous. 

“I understand that your family and mine are quite close, Lord Aegon. I also understand that your brother and I have started a book club—”

“Have you actually started it? You haven’t even had the first meeting yet.”

“Be that as it may, I am not blind to the attention you’ve paid me.”

“Lady Arryn,” he began with a laugh. 

“Let’s not play games, shall we? You’ve an interest.”

He looked at her, smile gone.

“I am sorry to say that I share no such interest. I’m sure that you cannot conceive of being told no, but I do not wish to continue the pretense that a flirtation between us will go anywhere. In fact, I do not wish to flirt at all. I find it wearisome. I suggest you turn your attentions to other ladies whom have piqued your interest, and I believe that there are many.” 

“After that set down, what other choice do I have?” he asked, eyes narrowed. “May I ask, Lady Arryn, if your interest lies somewhere else?”

“I have no other—”

“Perhaps my brother?”

Sansa furrowed her brows. “Your brother? I assure you that I do not have an interest in your brother, Lord Aegon. I’m sure you can see as well as I can that your brother and my sister will most likely make a match.”

Lord Aegon bowed and said a clipped, “Good night” and departed her company. 

Sansa blew out a deep breath and hoped that didn’t haunt her later. She did not wish for there to be any ill feelings between her family and the Targaryen’s, but she also did not wish to put up with Aegon paying court to her. 

Perhaps a small part of her enjoyed giving him a proper set down, too. It was as though she was giving Harry one for Aegon reminded her of Harry a bit too much for her comfort. 

She sighed and squared her shoulders and scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Her gaze landed on one she recognized all too well and she inhaled sharply. 

Lady Melisandre. A favorite concubine of Harry’s. In fact, she was certain that it had been her Harry had truly been in love with. She’d gotten enough of their story through friends, Harry, and his parents over the years to piece it together.

Lady Melisandre was a widow as well and had taken Harry as her lover for quite a while. She wanted to marry Harry. But Harry’s parents hadn’t approved the match, claiming Lady Melisandre was too old for him and had children from a previous marriage. They didn’t want Harry to be bogged down with another man’s children. 

So, Harry had pursued Sansa instead. 

Lady Melisandre and Harry were together in between her own lovers and affairs, so Sansa had been told. 

“Sansa.”

Sansa blinked rapidly and found Jon standing before her. “Yes?”

He frowned. “I came over here to – are you unwell?”

“I – I just need some air. Is there a veranda? A balcony? Anything?”

“There is,” Jon said. “Follow me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tyler_Not_the_Creator who requested this be updated. :)

Sansa didn’t want to break down in front of Jon; she didn’t want to break down at all. Once they were outside on the veranda and away from the crush, Sansa put her hand on the railing before her and breathed deep. 

“What can I do?” Jon asked softly from beside her. “Would you like something to drink?”

She nodded. “That would actually be nice, thank you.”

Jon hurried off and Sansa put her hand over the sapphire necklace she wore. A gift from Harry after they’d been married. Aside from the fact that it was gorgeous, Sansa wasn’t sure why she kept it. It felt heavy around her neck now, like a shackle that kept her tied to Harry and all she’d put up with. 

“I got lemonade—” Jon said upon returning and broke off when she pulled the necklace off of her neck. His eyes went wide. “Why did you do that?”

Sansa stared at the sparkling sapphire in her hand, the chain dangling through her fingers. “It was a gift from my late husband when we were married,” she explained. She looked up at him. “I’m sure by now Arya has told you how he was not known for his fidelity?”

Jon nodded slowly. 

She looked back down at necklace thoughtfully. “I was standing here wondering why I wore it considering it came from a man who made life almost unbearable. It felt like a shackle around my neck, tying me to the past. I thought if I ripped it off my neck it would free me.”

“Has it?” Jon asked. 

Sansa looked up at him. “No. I feel no different. Now I’ve got a broken chain that needs to be replaced and nowhere to put this rather large sapphire.”

Jon held out his hand. “I’ve got pockets. I’ll hold onto it if you like.”

Sansa placed it in his hand and then plucked the lemonade from his other. She sipped it while Jon pocketed the sapphire and the broken chain. Sansa turned away so he didn’t have to witness her being such a glutton, and drank it down quickly. She was thirstier than she’d realized. She put the glass down on the railing and then placed her hands back upon it. 

Jon moved to stand beside her. “May I ask what made you think of your late husband? It appeared as though something – or someone – had triggered you.”

She nodded. “There was. It was a woman I recognized inside. A woman that Harry...”

“Say no more, I understand.”

“It’s rather tragic actually,” she murmured. “I was told by several people that he had wanted to marry her, but his parents had refused to approve the match. She was a widow with children and, according to Harry’s parents, much too old for him. Plus, they didn’t want him to have to take on her children. I think they felt that he wouldn’t see the need to father any of his own. I do not believe that Harry was particularly concerned with having children despite the fact that he knew he would need an heir.” She sighed and shook her head. “Anyway. This woman, she was the same age as I am now when he wanted to marry her. I suppose this means I am old.”

“Hardly,” Jon said quickly. 

She smiled. “You’re kind.” She sighed. “She was the one he kept going back to. I think she punished him by taking other lovers and denying him for a time, but then she always welcomed him back.” She looked over at Jon. “I apologize, Jon. This is quite scandalous to be discussing at a ball I understand. And from someone you barely know.”

“Quite the contrary, Sansa,” Jon said with a crooked smile. “I think balls are the exact sort of place for conversation like this. It’s pretty tame compared to the things I’ve heard being a wallflower.”

She laughed and Jon’s smile grew. He found himself shuffling closer to her. 

“I’m afraid I gave your brother a set down as well,” Sansa told him. “I’m sure he’s a perfectly kind gentleman, but he reminds me a bit too much of Harry and I prefer to steer clear of such reminders.”

“I take no offense to that,” Jon said. “I think my brother could use a few set downs. Perhaps it would keep his arrogance in check.”

Sansa turned so that she was facing him, resting an arm on the railing. “Tell me, Jon, how did you turn out so different? Although I have not met your sister yet, though I hear she is quite lovely.”

“She is,” he replied with a slight smile. “I suppose because my interests and my brothers are very different. I give him a hard time, but he is a good man and a good brother, but I don’t think that despite his being older he’s grown up yet.”

Sansa nodded. “I understand that. I do not think Harry ever grew up.” She made a face and turned back to facing the moonlit garden below them. “I do not wish to speak of Harry any longer.”

“What would you like to talk about instead?”

She sighed, looking somewhat sad. “Unfortunately, we should probably head back inside. We do not need the tongues wagging, plus I’m sure Arya is looking for you. As for me, I think I shall retire for the evening and put this night behind me.” She turned and smiled at Jon. “Thank you, and I apologize for sequestering you away and making you listen to me go on and on about Harry. I’m afraid you approached me at the wrong moment.”

“You do not have to apologize for that,” he said. “I can’t imagine it would be easy seeing the woman your husband…”

“Preferred over me? No, it wasn’t.” Her smile gone, she looked sad and weary and Jon wished he knew what to do to lift her spirits. 

“I—I was going to ask you to dance,” he told her. 

She blinked. “Oh?”

He nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes, I thought perhaps since we’re friends and soon-to-be book club partners…” _And though I hate to dance and have everyone looking at me, I just wanted to know what it would be like to dance with you._

“Perhaps another time?”

He nodded, feeling rather…dejected. He didn’t want Sansa to leave, though he understood why she wanted to. This ball was the most, well, fun was a rather strong word, but it hadn’t been dull. Mainly because he’d spent the better part of the night watching Sansa. Discreetly, of course. He didn’t want to give himself away, and especially not to Arya who checked on him in between chatting with her friend Shireen. 

“Excellent,” she said and back into the ball they went. She was gone soon after that. Jon slunk back to his corner. 

Dany came up to him, eyes narrowed. “I saw you walk out of here with Lady Arryn, Jon Targaryen. What just happened?”

Jon scowled at his sister. “It’s none of your business. What were you doing – watching me?”

“Well, Jon, there’s only one place you usually end up at a ball and that’s the corner. When you left your designated corner, I couldn’t help but wonder where you’d gotten off to. And if I noticed, then others probably did to.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Aegon received a set down from her. Did she tell you?”

“She did. She apologized.”

Dany lifted her chin. “Good. She should be sorry. He was quite upset about.”

Jon looked across the room where Aegon was standing with a few of his friends and laughing raucously. “Yes, he looks positively inconsolable.”

Dany sighed. “I am just wondering if you remembered our talk about Lady Arryn, that’s all. I do not wish to see you hurt, Jon.”

“I remember out talk, and I would like to remind you that I can take care of myself. I had a conversation with Sansa and that was the end of it.”

Dany pursed her lips together and then whipped around abruptly and left. 

Now that Sansa was gone, Jon just wanted to leave. Everything and anything that was even remotely interesting about this ball had left. He stuck his hand in the pocket where her necklace was and curled his fingers around it. 

xxxxxxxxxx

The next afternoon, Sansa was writing Harry’s parents, letting them know how she was doing when her maid came in with mail for her. 

“Pour moi?” Sansa asked. 

“Oui, Il a été simplement depose,” her maid said. It had just been dropped off. 

Her maid left and Sansa opened the letter with furrowed brows. 

_Dear Sansa,_

_I hope this afternoon finds you well and unencumbered by the distress of last night. Jane Austen said in her novel, Pride & Prejudice to ‘Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure’. This is my wish for you. To think only of what brings you joy and not what has harmed you. _

_Your necklace is safe in my care and ready for when you would like it returned to you._

_Sincerely,_

_Jon_

Sansa smiled as she ran the tips of her fingers over the paper as though she could touch Jon’s words and bring them into herself. 

She put the letter down and gazed out the window. “If only I had met a man as kind as you seem to be, Jon,” she said aloud and put the letter down on the desk and off to the side. She continued her letter to Harry’s parents and every so often her gaze would stray to Jon’s letter and she would smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the holidays have sucked all kind of brain power and creativity from me. Sorry for the wait.

Sansa had always enjoyed going to the theater when she first had her come out. She had known then that the _ton_ went to the theater to see and be seen and not to necessarily watch the performance. Watching others was a performance all on its own. 

Now, however, Sansa had some trepidation in attending the theater with her family. Yes, she had been to a couple balls now and so far there hadn’t been many whispers about her, but the _ton_ was fickle. It might latch onto her and her shame just because it needed something to do, something new to talk about.

How she felt now being in Society was a stark contrast to how she used to feel. She remembered being so excited and ready to the jump in the fray of all that Society had to offer. Now she found she might have made a mistake in joining her family for the Season. She longed instead for the quiet of the country, and to be away from prying eyes. Society was often judge and jury – and for things that were often out of one’s control. Such as Harry being shot by his lover’s husband. 

_Is it not your fault, though? You did fail to make him happy._

Ah, that nasty little voice in her head. The one that liked to remind her of her failings as a woman and a wife. She liked to shut that voice up by making sure she looked fabulous every time she left home. And tonight was no exception.

One of the perks of being older and a widow was getting to wear whatever she wanted. No longer did she have to stick to pastels. If she wanted to wear scarlet red, she could. If she wanted to wear royal blue, she could. And tonight, she did. Her dress dipped lower than she what she used to wear as well, and it was layered with cream-colored fabric, giving the illusion that her dress was fuller than it really was. 

Sansa followed her parents inside the theater that night, with Arya right beside her. She held her head high, a serene smile fixed on her face. Once they were seated, a slight hush fell over the crowd and Sansa looked down into the crowd and found Cersei smirking up at her while some poor friend of hers whispered in her ear. Cersei then made a big show of turning to said friend while pointing at Sansa. 

“Do you want me to punch her?” Arya asked from beside Sansa. 

Sansa shook her head and smiled a bit. “No.”

“She deserves it though.”

“I agree, but Cersei has been and always will just a horribly unhappy person. She was married off to a man almost twice her age and being a miserable sod is all she has.”

“Bravo, sister. I’ve never heard you use such language before,” Arya giggled. 

“I’ve hidden depths you don’t know about,” Sansa said with a smirk. 

Movement caught Sansa at the corner of her eye and she turned at the same time Arya did to find Jon standing before their box, looking a bit nervous. He looked straight at Sansa and bowed his head. “Good evening,” he said. 

Sansa smiled at him, startled when she felt her pulse quicken at the sight of him. Arya popped up and went to talk to him and Sansa turned back around. She kept her expression neutral, having learned to hide what she felt and thought from others quite well. When one had to show their face in Society despite the fact that one was being cheated on and made a fool of, one learned how to not let others know how much it damaged you. 

It was odd that she should feel that spark of…happiness at seeing Jon. 

_Well, he is my friend_ , she thought. _Of course I would be happy to see him._

She ignored the fact that she knew quite well the difference between being happy to see someone because they were a friend, and being happy to see someone because of…other reasons. 

Sansa was nothing if not adept at pushing feelings she didn’t want to deal with away. It had taken time, effort, and endless nights of crying herself to sleep and bemoaning her life to do it, but she had. 

“How are you this evening, Sansa?” 

Sansa jumped at the sound of Jon’s voice so close to her ear. She shivered, and turned her head and found he’d taken the seat behind her. The lights dimmed and the strains of music began, signaling the start of the show. 

“I am well, thank you,” she whispered. 

“I will be back at intermission,” he whispered, close enough to stir the hair by her ear. She shivered and he smiled quickly, almost shyly, before getting up and departing. 

“What was that all about?” Arya hissed from beside her. 

Sansa leaned over and whispered very quickly to Arya, “He was just saying hello.”

“Girls,” Catelyn murmured, admonishment in her tone. 

Sansa could see Arya looking at her out of the corner of her eye. She picked up her theater glasses and turned toward the stage, ignoring her sister completely. 

xxxxxxxx

Jon had a perfect view of Sansa from where he sat with his family. He’d even covertly angled his chair to see her better. He could freely look his fill of her and it would easily appear that he was looking at the stage. 

Every part of him was focused on her though. 

Her long sleek neck, her pale skin, the apple of her cheek, the way her hair appeared even redder from the soft light that hit it from above. His eyes traced the path of the top of her dress from one shoulder to the next, and he thought about what it would be like to push some fabric away and kiss her bare shoulder. 

He was utterly besotted with her. 

When he saw the Starks enter their box, his eyes had sought out Sansa immediately. He’d felt his breath catch and his hear stutter in his chest. He’d watched her look down in the crowd and he’d observed the brief exchange of looks between her and Cersei Baratheon. 

Jon had seen a flash of hurt pass quickly over Sansa’s features. Just that brief flash had made him want to go to her. 

Slay dragons for her. 

Defend her honor. 

To do whatever she needed him to do so long as she never had another moment of sadness. He suspected she’d dealt with a lot. He wondered what it must have been like to not only have to endure her husband cheating on her time and again, but to have all that happen away from her family. That had to make it even harder. 

Finally, intermission came and Jon dallied a bit, not wanting to draw attention to his eagerness. Dany missed nothing, and he knew if it was called attention to, Aegon would figure out his… _infatuation_ with Sansa shortly. 

The thought had popped in Jon’s head the day after the ball that he could actually _court_ Sansa. However, one courted with the intention to marry. Jon wasn’t ready to commit to such a thing yet. For now, he just wanted to be around her and learn more about her. 

His thoughts turned to her so many times a day he didn’t think he ever actually stopped thinking about her. He’d penned three letters to her that he’d never sent just the day before. Just odd little notes such as how peaceful he found the morning when he could venture to the back yard and listen to the birds without anyone around. Or how he had always wished he’d learned how to climb a tree so that he could have a bird’s eye view of the world. Plus, he felt that he wasn’t active enough. He wondered if Harry had been. Then there was the letter he wrote to her about how at dinner with his family he sometimes felt as though he wasn’t seen or heard because his family could be so loud and he was not. 

He felt as though she would understand these things, but fear of her asking him to not send her letters kept him from sending them. Plus, the fear that Dany would intercept one. 

When Aegon and Dany had departed their box to get lemonade downstairs, Jon ambled down to the Starks. Sansa and Arya were coming toward him and Jon actually had the thought that he wished Arya was not there. 

He felt immediately guilty for having such a thought. Arya was his friend. His best friend. Yet he felt the pressure of her gaze whenever he would speak to Sansa. Arya didn’t like it, and she’d made that clear when she’d declared him her friend and not Sansa’s. 

But Jon could be friends with whomever he wanted. 

Even if it wasn’t just friendship that Jon felt for Sansa. 

Jon attempted to not just focus on Sansa as she and Arya walked towards him, but admittedly it was difficult not to. Arya broke away from Sansa’s side and charged up to Jon. “We’re going to get lemonade,” she told him. “Would you like to join us?”

Jon nodded. “I would.”

Arya smiled at him as Sansa approached. “You’re going to get a lemonade as well, Jon?” she asked. 

“I am,” he said with a nod. 

“Excellent. The mad dash people made for the lobby makes me think there must be quite a crush down there. I am not very thirsty, so I think I will return to our box. Arya, would you mind bringing me back a lemonade?”

“Sure,” Arya said with a shrug and pushed Jon in the direction of the stairs. 

Jon was disappointed. Severely disappointed. He turned back around to find some way to talk Sansa into joining them, but she was already walking away. His heart sank and he fell silent as Arya nattered on about the show and those in attendance. Jon pretended he was listening, but all he was thinking about was when and how he could have some time alone with Sansa again.


	8. Chapter 8

“I hate her so much,” Arya all but growled as she and Jon stood together in the lobby sipping their lemonades. He noticed that Arya was glaring at someone across the room.

Jon furrowed his brow. “Who?”

“Lady Cersei.”

Jon remembered the ball in which he had first met Sansa, and how there had been an exchange between Sansa and Lady Cersei that hadn’t looked all that friendly. “Why do you hate her?”

“Because she’s been terrible to Sansa since her coming out,” Arya said. “They came out at the same time, and Lady Cersei had it in her head that Sansa was her competition. She was, of course, but not because Sansa did anything to her, but because Sansa isn’t a terrible person and Lady Cersei is. She just loves the fact that Harry was a philanderer and ended up dead because of it. Never mind the fact that she ended up marrying a man twice her age because her family needed his money to get them out of debt that her brother had racked up.” Arya leaned in close to Jon and whispered, “There is some speculation that she and her brother are _involved_ and her son Joffrey is actually his and _not_ her husband’s!”

Jon’s eyes went wide and he looked over at Lady Cersei who was looking at him right back. He felt his face go red and he quickly looked away. 

“Wonderful,” Arya muttered. “Here she comes.”

Jon felt his stomach plummet. He wasn’t so good with scenes and he had a bad feeling one was about to happen. 

“Well, well. If it isn’t Lady Arryn’s little sister,” Lady Cersei drawled as she approached. She looked at Jon. “And who is this strapping young man?”

“He is too good for the likes of you, Lady Cersei,” Arya said with a glare. “Why don’t you slither on back to where you came from?”

Lady Cersei laughed, a tinkling fake sort of laugh that made Jon’s skin crawl. There was venom in her eyes as she looked at Arya. “Everyone knows you’re nothing but a hoyden, Lady Arya. You certainly do not have the same beauty as your sister. If I were you, I would hold on to this young man because I highly doubt you’ll have many prospects.”

“Bugger off, Lady Cersei,” Arya snapped. “Do you think I care what you think of me?”

“Your brother might be the only success thus far in the Stark family,” Lady Cersei continued as though Arya hadn’t spoken. “I mean, with your sister such a disgrace. She was such a failure in her marriage she couldn’t even keep Harry Hardyng happy long enough to produce an heir. The poor dear will most likely die alone and—”

It happened so fast that Jon couldn’t stop it, and it happened before Lady Cersei could even finish speaking.

Arya tossed the last of her drink in Lady Cersei’s face and hissed, “Cunt!”

Jon snapped into action and pulled Arya away while Lady Cersei’s friends began to swarm toward their friend while Lady Cersei howled her displeasure. Jon’s heart raced as he all but dragged Arya up the stairs. He placed his empty cup of lemonade on a nearby table before they got to the stairs. 

“I hate that cunt!” Arya roared. 

“I know,” Jon said. “And so does everyone else.”

Jon deposited Arya into the Stark box and Catelyn, Ned, and Sansa all looked their way. “What’s wrong?” Ned asked. “You have steam coming out of your ears, Arya.”

“No lemonade?” Sansa asked. 

Arya launched into her encounter with Lady Cersei and with every word, Sansa grew paler and paler. “Oh, Arya, you shouldn’t have said anything!” Sansa exclaimed. “You’ll be her target now that she knows she got to you!”

“I don’t care!” Arya shouted. 

“Well, you should,” Sansa snapped. 

“Do you think we should leave?” Catelyn asked as she looked up at Ned. 

“No,” Ned said, his expression grim. “That will only serve to let that woman think she won.” He looked sternly at Arya. “Sit down.”

Arya did. Not even Arya went against Ned. 

Sansa excused herself quickly and left. Jon didn’t even think about it – he followed her. She walked quickly down the hall and then abruptly turned into a room. Jon followed her in. The room was empty save for a few chairs and tables. The smell of cigar smoke was apparent in the air and Jon figured it must have been used as a sort of waiting room for guests. 

“Sansa.”

She turned abruptly, looking startled, and then sighed at the sight of him. “Jon, you should not be in here with me alone.”

“Are you all right?” he asked. 

“I am well. Just…” She rubbed her forehead. “I wish Arya hadn’t done that. Lady Cersei will target her now and she can be a vicious woman. She once started a rumor that I was with child from one of our footmen.”

“Arya isn’t afraid of her,” Jon said. 

“I’m not either,” Sansa said indignantly, her eyes flashing. 

“I didn’t mean to insinuate that you are,” he said gently. Was it wrong that he liked that flash of anger? To think it somehow made her look even more beautiful?

“I suppose that’s a bit of a lie,” Sansa said with sigh. “I didn’t join you and Arya downstairs because I wished to avoid her.”

“I do not think that is being cowardly. You just know how she is and wish to avoid a scene. It seems to me that Lady Cersei thrives on making them.”

“I just want to live my life in peace and I’d hoped that Lady Cersei would just leave me alone,” Sansa said fretfully. “She is just a spiteful, vindictive woman and is so miserable she has to make everyone around her miserable.”

“That much is obvious,” Jon said and moved closer to her. 

Her eyes welled up in tears. “Harry knew his duty. He knew he needed an heir and we…we tried. At least in the beginning we did, but then he started to stray. He would visit my bed from time to time but I never conceived.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “At first I prayed I would, then I began to pray I wouldn’t.”

Jon pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and considered wiping away her tears himself. He certainly wanted to, wanted to comfort her in some way, show her some kind of affection, but he didn’t. He handed it to her instead and she took it gratefully. 

“I don’t think anyone could blame you for that,” Jon said softly. 

“I don’t know why I am telling you all this,” she muttered as she wiped away her tears. “It’s a delicate topic and I shouldn’t be discussing it with anyone.” She looked up at him. “You just have a way about you, Jon, that makes me feel as though I can open up to you.”

With his heart thudding hard in his chest, Jon reached out and ran his fingers along Sansa’s cheek. Her eyes widened. “I’m glad,” he whispered. 

He started to lean into her when she pulled away and pushed his handkerchief in his hand. “We should leave his room,” she said and hurried out. 

Jon stood there, breathing heavy. He had almost kissed her! He gripped the handkerchief in his hand tightly and then brought it to his nose, hoping that some trace of Sansa’s scent was on it. It wasn’t. But her tears were there, and so held onto it as he made his way back to his family. 

He was a besotted fool, and he didn’t care one whit. 

xxxxxxxx

_Dear Sansa,_

_I would like to see you alone if I could I have book club business to discuss with you. Please advise where and when._

_Yours,_

_Jon_

 

Sansa stared a bit too long (in her opinion) on the “Yours” before penning a return letter. 

_Dear Jon,_

_I will be visiting my parents this afternoon if you would like to stop by. Just let me know when and I will be sure to have tea and scones available, plus ensure that Arya is present._

_Sincerely,_

_Sansa_

Jon frowned at her letter. He didn’t want Arya present. He wanted Sansa alone. To himself. He felt something bubble up inside of him that was uncomfortable and new: desperation. 

_Dear Sansa,_

_I will be by at two._

_May we speak alone?_

_Jon_

Sansa opted not to answer. She was curious as to why he wished to speak with her alone, but also quite certain that they shouldn’t. The excitement she felt at being handed a letter from him felt all too familiar. It reminded her of the days when she’d receive correspondence from Harry when he was courting her. She had felt that giddiness of seeing her name in his scrawl and the feeling that she couldn’t open the letter fast enough to see what he’d written to her. 

This was not good. Jon was meant for Arya. Sansa had no business feeling things that had just led her into trouble with Harry. Granted, Jon and Harry were very different, but that didn’t matter. Jon would want a wife and Sansa was no longer the marrying kind. Plus, again, he was meant for Arya. 

So, when Jon arrived that afternoon, she made sure Arya was present. 

Jon did not look happy to see Arya.

xxxxxxx

Jon was not happy to see Arya. 

He loved her dearly as his friend, but for once he did not wish to see her and spend time with her. It was Sansa he wanted to see. 

His temper sparked at the sight of her, and he vowed to himself then and there that he would get his alone time with Sansa no matter what. 

“I was going to place an ad in the paper about our club,” Jon told Sansa when he sat down for tea. “But after last night I opted not to. I was afraid that Lady Cersei and her cronies might want to join out of spite and I did not want to cause any more trouble for you.”

Sansa smiled demurely at him as she handed him his tea. “Thank you, Jon. That was quite thoughtful of you.”

“Also, my friend Sam will be in fact joining us.”

“Shireen will be joining us as well, and she is going to ask her friend Gilly,” Arya said and slurped loudly on her tea. 

Sansa frowned at the sound, but pursed her lips together and said nothing. 

“I thought perhaps we should choose a book,” Jon said. “How about—”

“Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen?” Sansa interrupted. She laughed. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me to cut you off like that, Jon, but I am reading it now and it’s so lovely.”

Jon grinned at her. “Yes, we’ll read that then.”

Sansa beamed at him. “Was there anything else, Jon?”

“Yes, are we done now?” Arya asked.

Jon nodded. “I believe that was all,” he said. 

“Excellent. I was thinking of going to Robb’s for a visit. Would you like to join me, Jon?” Arya asked. 

Jon forced himself to look away from Sansa and at Arya instead. “No, thank you. Perhaps another time.”

Arya shrugged, put her tea down, and then stood and charged off. 

Sansa cleared her throat, put her tea down, and stood. She strode quickly to the door. “I’ll just see you out, Jon.” 

Jon practically threw his tea cup down in his haste to catch her. Just as she put her hand on the knob, Jon put his hand on the door above her head to keep it shut. 

“Jon?” she whispered. 

“I wanted to see you alone yet you invited Arya. Why?”

“It wasn’t proper.”

“Hang propriety,” he said. Her denial of his wishes had made him bold. So had her close proximity. He was quite aware of how he was pressed against her, and he felt every part of her back against his front like a brand. He felt dizzy, almost as though he was drunk. He leaned in even closer and inhaled her sweet scent. 

She scurried away and looked at him, hands demurely folded in front of her. “What is it you wished to discuss with me alone?” 

Jon pushed away from the door and faced her. “I wanted to know how you were doing after last night.”

“I am well. Lady Cersei is a nuisance to be sure, but I will not let her ruin the Season for me. Is that all? You could have asked that in front of Arya.”

“Why are you so determined to have Arya part of our conversations?”

“Because you are meant for her.”

First Dany and now Sansa. “I am not meant for Arya,” he said gruffly. “I am not in love with her.”

“Well, maybe not yet—”

“You must know how ardently I admire you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Or so he thought. 

Her eyes narrowed. “Now you sound like Mr. Darcy.”

“I took a chance that you’d gotten to that scene.”

“I have.” Her chin lifted and she looked at him with a calculating and severe look. “Jon, I like you quite a bit. You are a gentleman, and a true friend of Arya’s. I like to think I am your friend as well, but if you insist on going down this path then I will have no choice but to put an end to our friendship. I am not sure what it is you expect of me, but I do not plan to wed again nor am I the sort to carry out an affair. I apologize for any indication I’ve given you that I may be interested in either one of those things. If you wish to be my friend then you will conduct yourself as such and there will be no more talk of ‘ardent’ feelings. You are young and inexperienced in the ways of love and seduction and perhaps what you see in me is a chance to experiment. Allow me to disabuse you of the notion. I apologize for having cried on your shoulder and for disclosing my secrets to you. Going forward that will not happen again. I trust you can see yourself out. Good day.”

And with that, she was gone and Jon was left to stand there and wonder how that had gone so horribly wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! The holidays have done a number on me. Thank God they're over!

At first Jon was hurt. The first time he felt true interest in a woman and he did something about it, he’d been rebuffed. And she hadn’t exactly been gentle about it either. He recalled that she’d done the same to Aegon. Sansa could cut a person to ribbons with that sharp tongue of hers. 

He licked his wounds for a long while. When he thought of Sansa he winced and felt an ache in his heart. Her words floated back to him each time, and cut him a bit deeper. 

_“You are young and inexperienced in the ways of love and seduction and perhaps what you see in me is a chance to experiment. Allow me to disabuse you of the notion.”_

His ego had suffered that blow. He knew he was young and inexperienced, but had he been so terribly awful in how he’d conducted himself with her that she thought of him as a child? It had certainly sounded that way! 

Plus, did she think he had so little regard for her that all he saw when he was with her was the chance to “experiment” with her? He had thought he’d shown just how much he actually cared for her and her feelings… 

_“I apologize for having cried on your shoulder and for disclosing my secrets to you. Going forward that will not happen again.”_

She was sorry for having opened up to him? For having shared things with him when he had felt the whole time that he could do the same with her? So now she was to take her friendship away in an attempt to scold him like a child?

His hurt gave way to anger. 

He was not a child. He was not some green boy fresh from the schoolroom. He didn’t go off chasing skirts like his brother or other men his age because he didn’t _want_ to. Fine, yes, he was also shy as well, but he’d seen enough ladies of the _ton_ to know that most of them were vacuous. The only ones he could carry an intelligent conversation with were Arya and Sansa, and now Sansa wished to no longer be his friend. 

Because she thought he was _young and inexperienced_ and _meant for Arya_. Just how many others thought he was meant for Arya? He thought back to the looks his parents had exchanged when he’d commented that he and Arya were just friends. They hadn’t believed him. Did Arya think of herself as being meant for him if she ever dared allow herself to think of something other than fighting and making fools of the _ton_?

Had the course of his life already been planned out for him and he had missed it? Did he get no say? He felt rather…bullied. Arya had told him he was _her_ friend, Dany had told him to forget Sansa, his parents seemed to believe he would wed Arya one day, Aegon was forever telling him what to do as was Dany, and now Sansa had ordered him from her life. 

He was rather tired of people telling him what to do. He was even sicker of listening to them. No wonder Sansa thought of him as some young and inexperienced green boy. He presented himself to her as such. Sansa was a woman that had been married and had suffered in the marriage. She was now independent and quite courageous. She needed a man equally as courageous. Equally as independent. As of right now, Jon felt he was neither one of those things. 

He felt weak. How could he hope to inspire the same yearning for him that he felt for her being so…pathetic?

A change was in order. But…how?

So, Jon did what he did best as a writer. He took what he knew through observing others – and he had observed a lot – and then took what he knew from books and cobbled together in his mind, and then on paper, the kind of man he wanted to be…and the kind of man Sansa needed. 

It all boiled down to courage. The courage to speak his mind. The courage to go after what he wanted. The courage to stand up to others. The courage to be his own man, and not the boy everyone expected him to be. To stop being the boy that he still felt he was. 

Sansa needed a man. And he wanted to be that man she needed. 

xxxxxxxx

Sansa could admit she missed Jon. He hadn’t been at any of the balls she’d been to over the past few weeks, and she hadn’t seen him at all when she visited her parents. When she’d asked Arya if she’d seen Jon, Arya had said yes but hadn’t elaborated. Sansa could tell by the look on Arya’s face that it had irritated her that Sansa had asked after him in the first place, she didn’t dare ask how he was doing, and she definitely did ask Arya if she cared for Jon more than she had let on. Arya wouldn’t confide such a thing to her. 

She kept hearing his voice in her head: _“You must know how ardently I admire you.”_ He had sounded so earnest, so sure of himself and so resolved in his feelings. And then there was the look on his face when he’d said it. He’d _looked_ ardent. 

Her thoughts drifted to the night at the theater when she’d told him how easy he was to talk to and he’d caressed the side of her face and said _I’m glad_. She swore he had leaned into her, and she had almost wanted him to, wanted the comfort of affection… of a kiss. 

Sansa rubbed her forehead as she stared down at the tray full of scones, macaroons, and water cress sandwiches. That would surely be enough food for the book club meeting…would Jon come? Or had she completely scared him off? She felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t meant to do that…

That was a lie. She had. She had meant to scare him off because it made her feel safe and in control. There had to be distance between them because he was meant for Arya and she was meant to be alone. She wouldn’t marry again, not when she now had her freedom and neither she nor Jon were the sort for an affair so really, there could be nothing between them. 

_He’s meant for Arya, he’s meant for Arya, he’s meant for Arya_ , she told her herself again and again and again. _He’s young, inexperienced, and he’s a romantic. He believes there are happily ever afters still and I do not._

“Jon and his friend are here,” Arya said, popping her head in the room. “I’ll see them in.”

Sansa nodded. “Thank you, Arya.”

She made her way over to the circle of chairs she’d had the maid arranged for the book club meeting and picked up her copy of _Pride & Prejudice_. She hugged it against her like a shield and then decided she was being silly and childish and put it back down. 

And then Jon strode in followed by a pudgy boy with red cheeks and nervous eyes. Sansa darted a look at Jon, waiting for an introduction and he gave it. It was his friend Mr. Samwell Tarly. Samwell seemed rather shy if his blushing was anything to go by. And awkward, if his tripping over the Aubusson rug was any indication. 

Jon bowed abruptly to Sansa before heading to the circle of chairs and seating himself directly across from the spot Sansa planned to take. She frowned slightly as she watched him. He was clearly upset with her still, and Sansa was sad that their ease was now gone. It was what she’d wanted though, right? She sighed. It didn’t feel that way so much now…

“Shireen and Gilly are here!” Arya announced excitedly from the foyer. 

Sansa reigned in her temper with Arya screaming like a banshee. Honestly, it was as though her sister had learned no manners at all. 

Lady Shireen and Miss Gilly Craster came in chirping excitedly with Arya. Sansa cleared her throat and Arya looked at her in expectantly and with a bit of annoyance. “Yes, Sansa?”

“Would you perhaps introduce your friends to the group?” 

“Give us a minute to get in and settled for God’s sake,” Arya muttered as she practically stomped over to the chairs. 

Sansa pursed her lips together and made her way over to just the outside of the circle. “Would anyone care for tea? Arya, do you mind helping, please?” Arya rolled her eyes but got up and came over to help Sansa serve their guests. But then they all started to get up to take their tea and something to nibble on. 

Finally, when they were all seated the introductions were made. Small talk ensued for a bit and then Jon looked directly at Sansa and said, “Lady Arryn, would you like to start us off?”

Sansa hadn’t expected Jon to take control like that, and she found herself both surprised and grateful that he had. She smiled, though he did not smile back. “Of course,” she said. “So, what did we think of the novel?”

Silence. 

“Anyone?” she asked. 

“What did _you_ think, Lady Arryn?” Jon asked her. 

“I thought it was well-written – thoughtful and insightful and—”

“And boring as all hell,” Arya muttered. 

“Language,” Sansa snapped. 

Arya glared at her. “It was too romantic for me. I didn’t like it the first time I read it, and I certainly did not like it anymore the second go.”

“I did not find it overly romantic like some of the Gothic romances I’ve read,” Lady Shireen said softly. “I really liked Elizabeth. She spoke her mind.”

“She did at that,” Mr. Tarly added almost as softly. 

“I did like her…” Arya murmured. 

“I like how she put Mr. Darcy in his place,” Sansa piped in. 

“You don’t think perhaps she was a bit too harsh with him?” Jon asked her. 

Sansa frowned. “Well, perhaps a little, but he rather deserved it for his behavior and the things he’d said.”

“He was misunderstood.”

“And yet no less rude for what he said about Lizzie. Tell me, Lord Snow, what did you think of his proposal?”

“He did make a right mess of it, but I’d always read that scene as him being quite overcome with his feelings for Lizzie and his fear of rejection. It wasn’t easy for him to ask her to marry him.”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s never easy for one to tell another how they feel about them,” Jon continued. “Especially when the feeling is deep. It can make one a bit mad.”

He wasn’t talking about Mr. Darcy. It had taken Sansa a little while to get why he was so adamantly defending Mr. Darcy and laying the blame at Lizzie’s feet, but she finally got it. He was talking about her. About him. About _them_. 

“She was sorry for what she’d said,” Sansa said, her voice a bit wobbly as she looked at Jon. His gaze didn’t leave hers, and his expression remained unreadable. “She hadn’t truly wanted to hurt him.” 

“She’d regretted what she’d said after, especially after the letter in which he’d explained all about Mr. Wickham,” Miss Gilly Craster said. “I think she liked that he presented a challenge to her, and I think Mr. Darcy rather liked the same about her.”

“He’d met his match with her,” Jon said softly. 

Sansa remained silent, her mind reeling. Is that what Jon thought of her? That she was his match?

“Mr. Darcy was reserved and quiet,” Jon went on. “He was used to keeping to himself and taking care of his sister. He wasn’t comfortable in society and felt a bit out of his element in these situations. I think that is why he liked Mr. Bingley so much. His friend was the opposite of him and pushed him a bit from his shell. Though, perhaps, with little success. But then there was Lizzie and her fine eyes. Her wit. Her sharp tongue and her intelligence. It wasn’t until he met Lizzie that he’d felt so inclined to try to be the kind of man Lizzie could love.”

Sansa forced herself to look away from Jon and nervously put her hand over her heart. “Does anyone need more tea?” she asked. 

She was certain that no one else had felt the tension between her and Jon, or had seen what had passed between them even if she wasn’t quite sure what exactly had….but then she looked at Arya and found her eyes narrowed at Jon and wondered if perhaps Arya had picked up on something after all.


	10. Chapter 10

“What is going on with you and Jon?” Arya hissed to Sansa after the meeting had broken up a bit. Samwell and Jon were standing by the food chatting while Shireen and Gilly were still sitting and deep in conversation. 

As soon as Sansa had gotten up, Arya had pulled her aside. Sansa pretended at innocence. “What do you mean?”

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not stupid, Sansa. It was plain that something was going on between you two. You got all flustered and it was obvious Jon was trying to tell you something. What is happening?”

“Nothing,” Sansa said firmly. She looked at her sister curiously. “Arya, do you…” she dropped down to a whisper, “have feelings for Jon?”

Arya turned a bit red which was not only surprising, but also disconcerting. She _knew_ it! Arya _did_ have feelings for Jon! “I…he’s just mine, Sansa. Not yours.”

Sansa looked at her sister helplessly. “I have no intention of taking Jon away from you, Arya. I know he’s yours, but you must tell me what you mean when you say that. Have you set your cap for him or not?”

Arya sighed. “It’s not that I’ve set my cap for him…not like you think. It’s just that Jon is the only one I get on well enough with. If I have to marry then I think Jon would make the most sensible choice.”

“Oh, Arya, that’s no reason to marry someone. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to Jon. You both deserve to be with someone who makes you happy – someone with whom you have a chance at falling in love with.”

Arya glanced across the room at Jon. “I think I could learn to love him.” Yet she didn’t sound sure. 

“Is Jon aware of this?”

Arya looked at her sister as though she was crazy. “Of course not.”

“Jon is a romantic, Arya. He’s not the sort to settle down with a woman that he isn’t in love with.”

Arya glared at her. “What are you trying to tell me, Sansa? That you are in love with Jon?”

“No, Arya, I’m not—”

“Just stay away from him. You married for love and look what happened. What do you know of what makes a marriage work?” With that, Arya stalked off and Sansa felt as though her sister had just slapped her. 

“I know something about it,” Sansa said softly to herself. She wondered if she could slip from the room without anyone noticing. Instead, she made her way over to Shireen and Gilly and sat down to not so much join their conversation, but perhaps give the pretense of listening while she attempted to get herself together. What she wanted to do was cry, but being in a roomful of people she could not. 

**********

“I just think if you’ve an interest in horses at all, you should take a visit with me to Sully’s. They have an array of quite impressive horseflesh,” Sam said to Jon just as Arya came over. He clammed up as soon as Arya approached and then forced a tight smile at her. 

Arya rolled her eyes at him and tugged on Jon’s arm. “May I speak with you alone, Jon?” she asked. 

Jon was about to tell her that he was speaking with Sam at the moment and could she wait a moment when Sam held up his hand. “I should be going anyway,” he said and headed for the door. 

Sansa spotted him like the good hostess she was and practically ran to catch up with him. Jon smiled, thinking how kind she was. How thoughtful. When Sam had stuttered a bit earlier during the book conversation, she hadn’t even batted an eye. Instead, she complimented him on his observances and added onto his thoughts. He watched her follow Sam out into the foyer and when he looked down at Arya, he found her scowling at him. 

“What is going on with you and my sister?” Arya demanded. 

Jon’s smile fell. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t even attempt to play innocent with me, Jon Targaryen. I know something is going on with you two, and don’t think for one minute the lot of us here didn’t pick up on it. Are you in love with my sister?”

“No,” he said, and that was the truth. He wasn’t in love with Sansa, though he did have the sneaking suspicion he was definitely falling for her. She was the first thing on his mind in the morning, and the last thing he thought about at night. Thoughts of her followed him throughout the day and he found himself writing more letters to her that he would never send. 

“Liar.”

Jon’s temper flared and he looked down at Arya with narrowed eyes. “Shall we take this outside and away from our guests?” he asked. 

“They’re not your bloody guests. This isn’t your house. It’s just a dumb book club you helped my sister put together.”

Annoyed, Jon grabbed Arya’s arm and all but dragged her with him out the door and down the hall to the terrace outside. “What is the matter with you?” he demanded angrily. “Who put a bee in your bonnet?”

“You!” Arya exclaimed. “And Sansa! Something was going on with you two during the meeting. The looks – the speech about Mr. Darcy, how odd Sansa acted….what is happening?”

Jon sighed, his temper cooling at the sight of Arya wringing her hands together. He reached out and gripped her hands. “Arya, I…I do have feelings for Sansa—”

“I knew it!” Arya exclaimed. “Jon, how could you?”

“What is so wrong with it?” he asked irritably. “And you bloody better not say she’s too old for me or some such rot. I am sick to death of hearing that.”

“She’s been married already—”

“To some sod that didn’t deserve her. I do not care one whit about that.”

“She could be barren!”

“I do not care, Arya! What is the real reason you’re so bent on keeping me away from Sansa?”

“You’re meant for me!” 

That caused Jon to clamp his mouth shut. 

And then Arya kissed him. 

He froze, gripped her arms, and then pushed her back. “Arya….”

He looked down at his friend who gazed up at him sorrowfully. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Arya…is it true then?” Jon asked softly. “Do you have feelings for me?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. I just…Jon, you’re the only one I get on with. You understand me and you listen to me. You commiserate with me.”

“Arya—”

“I know that one day I will have to marry, and I am so very afraid to end up with some man that will harm me or cheat on me,” Arya said as she began to cry. “I do not want to end up like Sansa. I do not want to live a miserable life being wed to a man I love who does not love me back. She was so unhappy, and I’ve heard the stories of women whose husbands beat them or shuttle them off into the country to rot. I don’t want that, Jon, and I know that you would not do such a thing to me.”

“Arya,” Jon breathed and pulled her into his arms for a comforting hug. “Do you honestly think your family would make you marry a man who would do such things to you?”

“They let Sansa marry Harry.”

“It sounded to me that Sansa was determined to marry him regardless of what they thought.”

Arya nodded. “That is true, yes.”

“Arya, I think in knowing what happened with Sansa, your parents will be even more diligent in making sure you do not befall the same fate. Besides, I’ve no doubt that even if you did end up with a poor excuse for a husband you’d waste no time whipping him into shape.”

She giggled at that. Jon pulled back and dug into his breast pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. “We are not in love, Arya,” Jon said softly. “And I think you’d be miserable in a different way married to a man you feel nothing for.”

“It would make the most sense for us to marry don’t you think?” she asked hopefully. 

Jon shook his head and looked at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Arya, but I cannot marry a woman I don’t love.”

“Love is easy for you! You’re a man, you can choose whomever you wish. It’s different for a woman.”

“You’re a bloody Stark, Arya. If you told your father you would not marry a man you didn’t love he wouldn’t make you do so. If you wanted to live your life just as Jane Austen did – never having married at all, I am quite sure he would allow it. As long as you are happy. And you know, you’re not as different from your sister as you think. All this talk about being sensible. It sounds very much like her.” Arya snorted and Jon looked down at her disappointedly. “If you’d talk to her you’d learn that.”

She sighed, looking a bit defeated. “Are you terribly upset with me?”

“No,” Jon said gently. “But I will ask you to please not interfere when it comes to Sansa and I. What goes on between us – or doesn’t for that matter – is our business. It does not mean I cannot still be friends with you. Do you understand?”

She pursed her lips together and folded and refolded the handkerchief. “A little,” she said petulantly. “Not really. I don’t understand why she gets so much attention.”

“Are you feeling left out?” 

“Oh, bugger off, Jon,” she muttered. 

“It’s a fair question.”

“No, I’m not feeling left out. But I like that you’re my friend and I don’t want that to change.”

“Nothing is going to change, Arya.”

“What do you want to do? Do you want to marry her?”

Jon sighed. “I haven’t worked it all out yet. Do you want me to tell you when I have?”

“Perhaps it’s best I don’t know,” she murmured. She pushed the handkerchief into his hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll lay down for a while.”

“Arya—”

“Good day, Jon.”

She hurried off and Jon sighed as he watched her go. It didn’t seem he could make any of the Stark women happy these days. 

When he made his way inside he found Sansa at the door seeing Shireen and Gilly off. Jon made the leisurely walk into the drawing room and grabbed his copy of _Pride & Prejudice_ and then made his way to the foyer where Sansa was waving to Shireen and Gilly. 

“Everyone gone then?” he asked her as he stepped up beside her. 

She moved to the side a bit, putting some space between them and nodded. “You’re the last. I thought Arya would be the one to see you out.”

“She wanted to have a lie down.”

Sansa rubbed her forehead. “Well, it was a successful meeting.”

“It was,” he said softly. With his heart pumping in his chest he reached out and grazed her fingers with his own. “Sansa, I—”

“Ah! The meeting is over?”

The pair looked over to find Catelyn making their way over to them with a smile on her face. “How was it? A roaring success, I hope?”

Sansa smiled at her mother. “It was. Jon was just leaving.”

He sighed inwardly and bowed to Sansa and Catelyn. “I was. Good day, Ladies.”

“I understand your family will be at Vauxhaull Gardens tonight. Will you joining them, Jon?” Catelyn asked. 

Jon glanced at Sansa and then looked at Catelyn. “You are all attending?”

Catelyn smiled. “We are. Even Robb and Talisa.”

“I’ll be there,” Jon said. He hadn’t planned on it, but if Sansa was going, then so was he. He just hoped she didn’t change her mind about going now that she knew he was. 

The thing about Vauxhall Gardens was that it was infamous for its darkened paths and opportunities for assignations. If he played his cards right, he might just work up the nerve to sequester Sansa away from their families and have a private chat with her. 

Something that he had been dreading was now something he was very much looking forward to.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Despite the fact that Sansa was troubled by Arya deciding to stay home instead of joining them all at Vauxhall Gardens, she couldn’t help but smile as soon as she saw the beauty of the place. She always did like to be surrounded by beautiful things, and Vauxhall certainly delivered with its gorgeous landscape complete with pathways lit up with lanterns that shed a soft glow. 

Vauxhall Gardens was not like the theater or a ball – yes, there was entertainment to be had in the form of shows and music and games, but there was a sense of privacy that did not exist elsewhere. Even when one was out in the open, the dim lighting made one feel as though they could be hidden. 

It was not uncommon for couples to find a dark corner or some other private place to engage in an assignation. She and Harry certainly had when they’d visited with their families while he was courting her. He’d stolen kisses and a grope or two. At the time it had been thrilling, but only because of the secrecy and the sneaking about. Harry’s touches hadn’t been all that thrilling, though at the time she’d certainly pretended they were. 

“Sansa, are you all right?” Robb asked from beside her. “You look as though you’re attempting to uncover the mysteries of the universe.”

She emitted a tinkling laugh. “Oh, nothing as serious as that. Being here has reminded me of my last visit.”

Robb’s smile fell. “Harry.”

“The one and only, thank the good Lord.”

“If I could find a way to resurrect that sod just so I could kill him again, I would. For you.”

Sansa smiled warmly at her brother. “I know. Thank you.”

Robb gripped her hand and pulled her back a bit, catching the attention of his wife who was on the other side of him. Robb turned to face his sister and Talisa came up beside him while Ned, Catelyn, Bran and Rickon moved forward to the field where other children the same ages as Bran and Rickon were playing games. 

“Mother is worried about you,” Robb said softly. 

Sansa furrowed her brows. “Why?”

“She said you’ve no wish to marry again.”

“That is correct,” Sansa said in measured tones. 

“Sansa, do you think it wise to close yourself off in such a manner?” he asked. 

“Robb, honestly,” Talisa admonished him lightly. 

Robb looked at his wife. “I’m worried about her. I don’t want her to spend her days alone.”

“I’m hardly alone with you and Mother and Father, Bran and Rickon and Arya. One day I’ll have a niece or a nephew – possibly both.”

If it was not so dim, Sansa was certain she’d see a blush on her brother’s face. “Don’t you want children of your own?” he asked. 

“Don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“I could very well be barren.”

“I don’t believe it,” Robb said dismissively. “The Powers that Be knew better than to allow you to bring a child into the world with Harry fucking Hardyng as its father.”

“Robb!” Sansa exclaimed, meaning to admonish him for his language, but then erupting into laughter along with Talisa. 

“You see how passionate he gets?” Talisa asked with a laugh. 

“Why would I marry again when I have the freedom to do what I want now? I’m able to take care of myself and I have no obligations.”

“Love, Sansa,” Robb said softly. “Don’t you want to find love? Not the kind you had with Harry but the real thing?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Why do people who are happily married feel the need to couple the world? You seek to spread it like a disease. I have the love of my family. That’s all I need.”

Robb shook his head. “I don’t believe you.” He pointed at her. “You forget that I know you. I know all about those dreams you had as a girl.”

“Foolish dreams,” Sansa murmured and then narrowed her eyes at her brother. “And I remember a certain boy who thought girls were icky.”

He grinned. “I still do sometimes.” That elicited a cry of surprise from Talisa and Robb laughed and sought to assure her he was teasing, though Talisa knew it by the smile on her face. 

Sansa left them alone and wandered off in search of her parents. She stopped in her tracks when she saw them talking to the Targaryen’s. 

Where there were Targaryen’s there had to be Jon. Her heart started to race – a commonality ever since Jon had come into her life. Before that the last time her heart had raced was when…

No. Not worth thinking about that. 

Sansa didn’t seem him straight away and figured her best course of action was to discreetly sneak off so he would not discover her. Though it was never a good idea for a lady to take a dimly lit path on her own, Sansa was rather certain that if she stayed close to where there was entertainment she would be safe. 

She had just taken a step around the corner from her parents when she ran smack into someone. “Oh, I am sorry!” she exclaimed. 

“There you are.”

Sansa looked up. “Jon,” she whispered. 

“Where are you off to?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“I was – I mean, I am just going for a stroll.” She sounded like a young maiden, not a woman of twenty-seven who had been married and knew all too well the ways of men. 

He looked over his shoulder and then back at her. “Alone? Surely you know how unsafe that is for a woman on these dimly lit paths.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Is there something special you wanted to see, I could escort you?”

She opened her mouth to reply and nothing came out. He’d rendered her speechless. His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps instead you were looking to hide?”

“Of course not,” she said, finally finding some of her mettle. “I’ve no reason to hide.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to take a stroll with me?” He straightened his gait and offered his arm, leaving Sansa no recourse but to take it. It was what a lady did. 

“Thank you,” she said tightly as she slid her arm through his. 

They walked in silence for a few steps and Sansa’s mind positively raced. She hadn’t meant to be alone with Jon. 

_Liar_ , the voice in her head said. _You wore that red dress for him. To entice him._

It was true, and she marveled at her ability to fool even herself. She’d chosen a red dress that was rather low-cut and clung to her curves. It had been all the rage in Paris. 

She had chosen it to entice Jon. There, she admitted it. She had almost begged off and stayed home, but in the end she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. She’d wanted to come and see Jon, even as she fought with herself over the reasons why she should not. 

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” Jon asked softly. 

“No, thank you,” she replied just as softly. Silence fell again. “Arya stayed home this evening,” Sansa blurted out. 

“Did she?” he asked mildly, not sounding particularly concerned. 

“She is upset with me,” Sansa said. 

“She is upset with me as well.”

“Oh?”

“Did she say anything to you about our conversation earlier?”

“No.”

Jon turned down a path in which there was no one about. Sansa’s heart began to race again. Something was going to happen; the air was thick with it. She just couldn’t decide if she wanted whatever was coming to happen or if she should attempt to flee before it did…

Jon took another turn, this time onto a smaller path and then into a small garden with a fountain. 

They were alone. 

Sansa pulled her arm from his and attempted to go back to where they came from. “This is not seemly—”

But Jon grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. Their bodies collided and Sansa looked up at him, chest heaving, and her breath coming in short gasps. She didn’t feel like a grown woman; she felt like a child. It both excited her and scared her, and she found herself trapped by the heated look in his eyes. 

He released her arm and cupped her face in his hands. “I told her I had feelings for you.”

“Jon—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured and pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes shut and Sansa shut hers as well. Their breaths mingled together in the small space between them, his breathing as heavy as hers was.   
“I think about you all the time. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake, and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep.”

Sansa licked her suddenly dry lips. 

“I write letters to you in my notebook.”

Her eyes popped open and she was a bit startled to find his eyes on her. “What do you write to me?”

“Whatever I’m thinking about. Observances…little things I hear that I think you might find amusing. I do like to see you smile…”

“Arya—”

“Is not here,” he whispered. “But you are. And I am. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long now, Sansa, beautiful Sansa.”

And then he pressed his mouth to hers and Sansa felt as though she was flying. His hands moved to her waist and he pushed her into him, his hands gripping her tightly as though he feared she would escape. 

Her hands sought purchase on his arms and she gripped him just as tightly as he gripped her. He kissed her and kissed her until she needed air. They parted with a gasp and stared at one another. Sansa wondered if she wore the same dazed and yet needful expression that he wore. 

She got her answer when he bridged the small gap and kissed her again. Her hands went to his face, tentatively, and he moaned. She pressed her hands firmly against his face and felt the tickle of his beard on her palms. 

She loved it. 

His lips – she loved them too. So soft and firm and lush, and oh my, he was a good kisser! Harry’s had always been sloppy and wet and – 

_Stop thinking about your poor excuse for a husband._

Jon broke the kiss and muttered, “Sansa, Sansa, Sansa,” as he trailed kisses down her neck and then back up to her mouth. 

Sansa’s hands moved to his hair and she gripped it in her hands as he kissed her again and again. 

“Jon? Where have you gone off to?”

Sansa froze, but Jon didn’t stop kissing her until she yanked on his hair enough to gain his attention. He broke the kiss and looked down at her in question. 

“Jon!”

“Dany,” he whispered. 

Sansa released him and pushed away from him. Jon looked at her, looking positively bereft at not having her in his arms. It made her heart ache; it made her feel wanted – desired. It made her head spin. 

“I’ll get rid of her,” Jon said quietly. 

“No, I – I best get back as well. Go to her and I’ll find my family.”

“No, I don’t want you on these paths alone.”

“I will be fine, Jon. We didn’t go very far. I can find my way back quickly enough.”

He reached for her and Sansa darted away and ducked out onto the path opposite to where they’d entered. 

“Sansa!” he hissed. 

Sansa bolted down the path. She was running! How unladylike of her! But then she burst into laughter as euphoria descended upon her. 

“Sansa?”

She looked up and found Robb and Talisa coming toward her. She stopped running and laughed breathlessly and placed her hand over her heart. 

“Are you well? Did something happen?” Robb asked and all but dragged Talisa with him to Sansa. 

Sansa nodded and smiled as she caught her breath. “I’m well, Robb. I’m just fine.”

“You were _running _.”__

__She laughed again and clapped her hands together in front of her face. “I know! And it was fun!”_ _

__Robb looked as though he didn’t know what to make of this. “Well…good then. I’m….happy for you? You disappeared…”_ _

__“I did. But now I’m back. Tell me. Where are you off to? I’ll join you.”_ _

__“We were heading towards the music.”_ _

__“Follow me. If memory serves, I know the way to the band.” She spun around and started forward, smiling to herself. She wanted to hold onto this feeling, this exhilaration that pounded in her veins and made her feel as though anything were possible._ _

__She didn’t want to think about Arya and how upset her sister had been that afternoon, and still this evening. She didn’t want to think that perhaps Arya still held back in being honest about her feelings for Jon. She didn’t want to think how others might look upon her kissing Jon Targaryen in the gardens, and what it meant now that she had tasted him._ _

__She feared now that he was already in her blood. She’d lost control. She’d been reckless. The last time she’d been reckless and allowed this giddy feeling to envelop her…._ _

___Harry, Harry, always sodding Harry!_ _ _

__And there it went. Her good mood._ _


	12. Chapter 12

_Dearest Sansa,_

_I do not dare hope that you’d looked for me after we’d parted ways last night, but in case you had I regret to inform you that I left shortly after my sister found me. My mother had grown ill and so we were all rounded up to return home. I had thought perhaps I could hitch a ride with you and the rest of the Starks, but I wasn’t sure if there would have been room for me and my family was in a rush to leave._

_I thought of you all night, sweetling._

_When may I see you?_

_Yours,_

_Jon_

_He is so very sweet,_ Sansa thought as she read his letter shortly after rising that morning. She wondered if he’d awakened with the sun to have already penned and sent forth a letter. 

“ _‘I dare not hope that you’d looked for me’_ ,” Sansa muttered to herself. “You did hope, Jon Targaryen, of that I am sure!”

And she had looked for him. All night she’d had conflicting emotions about those kisses and him and this… _thing_. She wasn’t sure what to call it. And she wasn’t sure if she should let it develop long enough to actually be defined. She yawned as she sipped her chocolate and looked out the window of her bedchamber. The building across the way gave her no answers. 

Part of her wanted to pick up where she and Jon had left off in that garden and the other part of her told her to stop this now. She was _still_ uncertain of Arya’s feelings for Jon and she didn’t know what it was that he wanted of her. An affair? Marriage? Marriage was still out of the question, but where before an affair hadn’t been an option she was willing to consider, now it didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. Especially when she thought about those heated kisses he gave her. 

She bit her lip and felt a tingling right in her core at the mere thought of those kisses and the other wonderful things Jon could do to her…

Yet…yet…

 _I do not wish to fall in love_ , she thought. She feared that with Jon she could. Very easily. It wasn’t something she wanted to do. 

“Guard your heart, old girl,” she muttered to herself. 

She sighed sadly. Perhaps an affair wasn’t such a good idea after all. Instead, she should just put an end to this whole _thing_ before it went any further. 

She pulled out a piece of paper from her desk and tapped her pen into the ink. She would tell him it was a mistake. That what happened could not and would not happen again. That he might see her at balls and at book club and never alone again. 

She began to write. 

_Dear Jon –_

And then stopped. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She put her pen down and sat back. What she wanted to do and what she should do were at war within her and she just didn’t know what the bloody hell to do. 

xxxxxxxx

Jon felt like a coiled spring. He could barely contain his joy. He’d kissed Sansa! He’d kissed her and held her in his arms. It was like Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one. When he closed his eyes he swore he could still taste her, feel her breasts pressed against his chest and her hands on his face. 

He wanted to sing (and he couldn’t). He wanted to dance (and he could do that but not very well). He want to shout to the very sky above that Sansa Stark (because Harry Hardyng was a ponce who didn’t deserve her!) was the most perfect, most beautiful woman in the entire world and he’d do anything for her. Anything she asked of him. 

He had barely been able to sleep the night before, tossing and turning and thinking of her. He thought of how he wanted to take her on a carriage ride, wanted to go for a walk with her in Hyde Park, wanted to steal kisses in the Stark drawing room, and he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go. 

His thoughts then had taken a more…carnal turn. 

He thought of her in bed with him. Right next to him. How it would feel to hold her naked and lush body in his arms. What it would feel like to taste her, to make love to her, to have her red hair spilled all around his pillow. 

He wanted her so badly with him he physically ached for it. He also grew hard. He’d taken himself in hand and spent his seed with her name rushing past his lips. 

He’d been up at dawn penning her a short letter, hoping and praying that she would write him back and tell him he could come and visit her. Preferably at her home so they could be alone. 

It was noon now though and he still hadn’t heard from her. She could have been late getting up depending on how late she’d gotten home. He wasn’t going to lose hope that he’d hear from her. She’d felt it too. He knew she had. She’d clung to him so sweetly, kissed him so passionately…She could no longer deny there was something between them. 

Could she?

He shook his head and attempted to read his book again. He’d been on the same page for the past twenty minutes. He frowned. It had actually taken him since after breakfast at nine to read three pages. 

She was ruining him, that’s all there was to it. 

He blossomed into a smile, letting his memory of the night before carry him away again. 

“Sansa,” he whispered. God, he hoped he could see her soon or he just might burst right out of his skin. 

xxxxxxxxx

Jon’s mood took a turn for the worse when dusk fell and it became clear Sansa wasn’t planning on responding to his note at all. 

She’d changed her mind. He knew it. She regretted it and was already thinking of ways to shut herself off from him. Arya was no longer an obstacle, so what would it be this time? Her age? He didn’t give a fuck about her age. What was seven years? It was nothing. The fact that she was married before? Jon didn’t care. He didn’t care about any of it. 

He didn’t want to be denied the euphoria that kissing her and holding her in his arms had brought him last night. He didn’t want to give it up. No, instead he wanted more. Much more. 

And he meant to have it. 

xxxxxxxxx

Sansa was on her way up to her bedchamber to change into her nightrail and make it an early night when there were three hard knocks on her front door. She stopped halfway up the stairs and turned to face the butler who stood there and looked up at her in question. She shrugged and gestured for him to answer the door. 

The door opened and the sound of carriages rambling down the lane greeted her along with a cool gush of air and the slight scent of smog. 

“Lord Jon Targaryen to see Lady Arryn.”

Sansa’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open at the sound of Jon’s voice. He sounded determined, not to mention annoyed. 

Her butler glanced over his shoulder at Sansa and must have seen something in her expression that told him she wouldn’t see Jon. He began to close the door, telling Jon that she wasn’t receiving visitors, but Sansa blurted out, “Let him in, Reynolds, please.”

As soon as the words had escaped her mouth she wanted to take them back. She wasn’t ready to see Jon. She had spent all day rebuilding her defenses against him, but she needed more time. She wasn’t ready…

He pushed past her butler and stood there, looking up at her with fire in his eyes. He looked angry, and as determined as he’d sounded.

“Jon, what are you doing here?” she asked. “Someone could have seen you on my doorstep.”

“I don’t care. They can all hang. You didn’t respond to my note.”

She licked her dry lips and shifted on her feet. “I apologize. I’ve had a busy day—”

“Doing what?”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down her nose at him. “I do not have to explain myself to you, Jon. You’re in a temper. I suggest you leave.” She turned to head back up the stairs, expecting that would be the end of it and he would go, but he didn’t. Instead he ran up the stairs and planted himself in front of her. 

“Lady Arryn, would you like me to have the young pup removed?” Reynolds asked. 

Sansa held up her hand and shook her head. “Leave us, please, Reynolds.”

“Yes, mi’lady.”

She heard him shuffle off while she and Jon stared at one another. He looked like a wild thing, his curls in disarray, his mouth open and panting softly, his eyes nearly black. 

She did not feel in control of this situation and she didn’t like it. She turned and started down the stairs. 

“Where the bloody hell are you going?” he demanded. 

“To the drawing room. If you wish to speak with me you may follow, otherwise you can either sit on the blasted stairs for all I care or see yourself out.”

She heard the heavy tread of his steps behind her and knew that he was following her. Sansa kept her back straight and her head lifted as she made her way to the drawing room. Inside she trembled. Not with fear – she knew Jon wouldn’t hurt her – but with the fact that he was here. In her home. They were alone. 

It was all the things she had told herself not to want. 

She stepped aside to let Jon in the drawing room and knew that she should keep the door open for some modicum of propriety, but she didn’t. She shut it. 

Jon had her against the door in an instant. He leaned into her, one hand braced over her head, the other by her waist. She could feel his breath on her face. He didn’t smell like liquor. She put her hands up to his chest in a weak attempt to push him away. 

He wouldn’t budge. Why did that thrill her? As did the look in his eye. When she’d met Jon he’d reminded her a harmless little puppy. He was shy, reserved, a wallflower. Sure, she had found him attractive, but as one does a precocious young thing who was naïve and innocent and sweet. 

But this man here, was in fact a man. He was commanding and he wasn’t letting her boss him around. She should be very annoyed about that. 

She wasn’t. 

She _was_ annoyed that this new Jon made her ache for him, however. 

“I know you thought ignoring me would make me go away,” he muttered and pulled lightly on a piece of hair that fell over her shoulder. “Those kisses last night were a revelation, Sansa. You want me as much as I want you. I felt it.”

“What do you want from me exactly?” she whispered. “Marriage?”

He flinched. It was slight, and one had to be watching closely to see it. Sansa was. She ignored the way that stung a bit despite the fact that she didn’t want to marry him either. 

“An affair?” she whispered, though it came out a bit hoarsely. Almost…needy. 

“I want whatever you will give me,” he said. “But I want something of you, Sansa. I’m going bloody insane over you.”

Harry had certainly never said anything like that to her. She felt a bit dizzy from it. 

“So, an affair,” she murmured. Her eyes narrowed. “Have you ever even had an affair?”

He pushed away from her, but didn’t move very far. He still stood directly in front of her, his arms hanging at his sides. “No, I haven’t.”

“Have you ever…?”

He shook his head, looking strangely confident and ashamed at the same time. The look in his eyes begged her to accept him. “No,” he said. “I’ve never made love to a woman before.”


	13. Chapter 13

Sansa pushed away from the door and breezed past him. “I see.”

Jon frowned and turned to follow her. She stopped in the middle of the room and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you see?” he asked. 

“What this is truly all about,” she said coldly. “Experience. It was just as I had thought before.”

He shook his head. “Sansa, no—”

“Do you think that because my husband was a philanderer and I’m now a widow I am in desperate need of a man? Let me disabuse you of that notion right now.”

“If anyone’s desperate right now, it’s me,” Jon said with a humorless laugh. “I want you so much I can’t see straight. I can’t even read anymore, Sansa. It took me all day just to get through a bloody chapter in our next book club book because I can’t get that kiss out of my head.”

“You want me in your bed, that’s what you want,” she said. 

“That’s not all I want.”

She arched a brow in question. 

“Last night while I was in bed—” 

She snorted. He glared at her. 

She gestured for him to continue with a wave of her hand. “Please.”

“I thought about going on a carriage ride with you. Going for a walk in Hyde Park. Yes, I also want to have you in my arms – think on how it would be to sit in front of a roaring fire and read together? A man in lust desires nothing more than carnal pleasure. A man such as me…I want more than that. You haven’t known me long, Sansa, but you know by now that I am not like most men.”

He wasn’t…and yet he didn’t want marriage. That seemed like most men of his age. _You don’t want marriage either, so what does it matter?_ She clenched her jaw tight and looked away from him. He was twisting her head all around, muddling her senses…

“Sansa,” he whispered, and she was surprised to find him right in front of her. He looked at her pleadingly. “ _Please_.”

“My reputation is a precarious thing as it is, Jon,” she murmured, trying desperately not to touch him. If she touched him all would be lost. 

“I do not wish to ruin your reputation,” he whispered. 

“If we…and we were discovered…”

“You take the lead. You tell me when and where. I will do as you ask; I am yours to direct.”

She stepped back, trying to think, to keep her wits about her. “You’ve nothing to lose, you’re a man. I know it’s all the rage for a widow to take a lover – even for married men and women no less! But I’ve never been that woman. Even when presented to me on a silver platter while starved for affection I couldn’t—”

“What do you mean? Who? When?”

“It was a long time ago,” she said. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me,” he told her. “Carriage rides, walks in the park – just as long as I get to spend some time _alone_ with you.”

Was he _sure_ he didn’t want marriage? And why didn’t he? All he’d described sounded very much like courting. 

_Same as me I imagine_ , she thought. _Freedom. Bloody hell. What does it matter? You want him, he wants you. It’s practically expected of you as a widow to take a lover._

“You can’t use the front door,” she said, and her voice wobbled. “You’ll have to use the back, and you can’t stay the whole night.”

His eyes went wide as realization of what she was actually saying dawned on him. Stark relief flooded his features and then he all but pounced on her, taking her in his arms and kissing her with all that desperation he said he felt. “Sansa, Sansa, Sansa,” he chanted on a murmur as he dropped kisses along neck. 

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

He shook his head, looking dazed and eager. “No. I told my family I was going into town for a while. They’ll think I’m writing poetry along the Thames.”

She smiled. “One day you’ll have to share your poetry with me.”

“I’m sure I’ll be bursting with verses after tonight.”

She bit her lip and cupped the side of his face. He leaned into her hand and then kissed her palm. “Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked. 

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” he said. He looked so serious, and sounded so somber, she knew he meant it. 

She stepped back and held out her hand. He slipped his hand into hers and she led him from the drawing room to the stairs and then, finally, up to her bedchamber.

xxxxxxxxx

Jon gripped Sana’s hand tightly in his own and kept his gave riveted on the back of her head. He was dreaming. He had to be. This was going to happen. He was going to make love to Sansa. His heart pounded hard in his chest and he felt as though just one touch from her would cause him to shatter. 

He hadn’t been lying before – he had never truly wanted anything in his life more than he wanted Sansa. Now he was about to have her and he was afraid he’d fall to pieces before he could bring her even a modicum of pleasure, and oh, God in Heaven, he wanted to bring her pleasure. 

Once they reached the second floor, she led him down the hall. It was long with sconces and various paintings and tables lining the wall. Her home smelled of her – like lavender and roses. His chest constricted and he must have gasped for she looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you all right?”

“I just want you so much,” he gasped. 

She smiled, and he was lost. He groaned, stopped, and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her soundly and then lifted her up in his arms as though she was his bride and he was about to carry her over the threshold. She squealed and he grinned at her. “Where is your bedchamber?”

She pointed to the door over her shoulder and to the left. He smiled as he carried her there. She leaned over in his arms and turned the knob. She pushed the door open and Jon carried her inside, shutting the door with his foot. 

Her bedchamber was not as frilly as he thought it would be. Dany’s room was filled with all sorts of fripperies that he had imagined Sansa would have had as well. Yet her bedchamber was tastefully done with shades of mauve and brown. A thick Aubusson rug softened his tread upon the floor as he placed her upon her soft and welcoming mauve bedspread with brown trim. There was a fireplace with a fire burning bright, and he looked at her in question. “Were you getting ready to turn in when I arrived?”

She nodded and began unpinning her hair. “I was going to make it an early night.”

Jon watched her, mesmerized, as she began to pull the pins from her hair that kept it up. When the last pin had been pulled he buried his hands in it. He groaned at the silken feel of it between his fingers. 

“Do you like my hair, Jon?” she asked with an amused smile. 

“I’ve yet to find a part of you I don’t like,” he told her. Then he smirked. “Oh, wait, I do know one thing I can do without.”

She arched a brow. 

He leaned in and whispered. “Your stubbornness, my lady. I can do without that.”

Her smile was slow and seductive as she lifted his chin with one finger. “I can do without yours as well.”

He smiled and stole a kiss. “Tell me what to do,” he whispered. “I want to please you.”

“You are a rare man indeed, Jon Targaryen.”

“Oh? How is that?”

“Most men just want their pleasure, and here you are wanting mine.”

He felt a blush come on at that. “Well, I know what it takes to make me…happy,” he said. She laughed gaily, throwing her head back and he smiled. “But I don’t know what to do to make you…happy.”

“To make me climax?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. 

She reached out and pushed his jacket from his shoulders. His breath caught at the feel of her hands on him. Her fingertips were a bit chilled and that plus, well, the fact that it was Sansa touching him, caused him to shiver. He helped her discard his jacket and tossed it somewhere behind him on the floor. 

“Jon, how is it that you’ve never…fucked?”

He inhaled sharply at hearing Sansa use such language. His shock must have been apparent on his face for she laughed. “I don’t have to be so proper in here, do I?” she teased. 

He shook his head and kissed her. “No,” he rasped. 

“So?” she prompted and began pulling his shirt from his trousers. He gulped. “I – uh – well, Aegon did take me to see a whore once.”

She paused and looked at him. “And?”

“And I kissed her—”

“You _kissed_ a whore?” 

“Aegon had the same reaction,” Jon said dryly. He cleared his throat as she undid the top buttons of his shirt next. “I’d never kissed a woman before and I wanted to know how. I just couldn’t…I couldn’t bring myself to…fornicate with her.”

Sansa laughed. “Jon, you can say it. Fuck. You couldn’t bring yourself to fuck her.”

He turned red. “I couldn’t bring myself to fuck her.”

“Why not? Did you find her pretty?”

“I did. But I felt sorry for her. She just looked tired…I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what happens in brothels. I know how the women there are treated. I didn’t want to be one of many who used them.”

Sansa pushed his shirt up and Jon lifted his arms and helped her dispose of it – somewhere over his shoulder again with his jacket. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “You are a good man, Jon.”

“I did ask her what women liked,” he murmured and nipped at her lips. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Sansa said softly with a smile as she ran her hands down his chest. “What did you learn?”

He looked right in her eyes. “I want to taste you, Sansa.”

It was Sansa’s turn to blush. She almost wanted to laugh at how she could say indecent things in the bedchamber such as “fuck” but the mention of him tasting her and she blushed like a maiden, whereas Jon had difficulty saying “fuck”, but had no trouble telling her he wanted to taste her. 

They were certainly a mass of contradictions. 

“Well then,” she said and turned her back to him in part so he couldn’t see just how much she was blushing, “perhaps we can start with you being my maid tonight and getting me out of this dress?”

She heard his sharp intake of breath and then felt him begin to pull at her laces and buttons on the back of her dress. “That,” he said, “is just one of the many wonderful things I have heard you say tonight, sweetling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since this is their first time and Jon's first time, I felt perhaps it would be best to kind of split their night up a bit. Plus, I kind of couldn't pass up the opportunity to stop this chapter at exactly 1900 words.


	14. Chapter 14

Undressing Sansa was, for Jon, like unwrapping a gift. Except with a gift it didn’t take so long. And there weren’t buttons and laces and hooks to undo. Well, unless Dany was feeling particularly mischievous. 

However, when her dress came loose and dropped to the floor, Jon felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He’d never been this close to a nearly naked woman – well, except for that whore but Jon didn’t think that counted since he hadn’t wanted to desperately touch her and make her his. 

Her shoulder of all things beckoned him, and as he attempted to undo her corset, he pressed himself against her back and kissed her shoulder. He felt her fingers in his hair and he lifted his head to receive her kiss. 

“Sansa,” he said hoarsely. 

She pushed her hips back, nudging him. “Keep going,” she whispered. 

His hands started to shake with need and want as he pulled at the laces of her corset. Sansa was the first woman ever he had ever truly wanted. The first woman that had sparked his interest enough to actually pursue her. “I’ve never wanted a woman like this,” he found himself saying. 

She smiled at him over her shoulder and then turned, pulling her corset off. She stood there in her chemise, underskirts, and pantalets and Jon lost his breath. She kept her gaze on him as she discarded her underskirts, her pantalets and chemise.

“Sansa,” he whispered as his eyes roved over her. All that was left was her stockings. She sat down on the bed and lifted a leg as she leaned back on her elbows. 

Jon took hold of the stocking and began unraveling it. Slowly at first, and then quickly. She laughed and he smiled at her, and once they were gone he bent over her, his eyes on the thatch of red curls between her legs. 

His hands slid up her legs, feeling the silken smoothness of them and how they went on and on…

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered. “I want to please you.”

“I…” she sighed. “I wish I could give you the instruction you’re looking for, but I cannot.”

Jon’s gaze flew up to hers in surprise. 

She reddened. “Harry never wanted to…do that. Some of my friends would talk about how glorious it was but I never…why are you smiling like that?”

Jon realized he probably was smiling like an excited child about to be given a treat. “Because in this I get to be your first. This will be something new for us to share together,” he said. 

She bit her lip and looked at him coyly as she moved back onto the bed until she was in the middle of it. Jon took off his boots and then climbed up onto the bed after her. He lay on his stomach, between Sansa’s spread legs and began leaving kisses on the inside of one thigh….then the other. He felt dizzy, but in the best way. 

He put his fingers on her cunt and spread her outer lips. Pink. She was so pink and beautiful there. His mouth watered and he licked up her slit and hummed. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever tasted before, but he liked it. 

A lot. 

“Jon,” she whispered on a moan and Jon filed that away – she liked that, so he had to do it again. 

So he did. Again and again and again, and then he paid particular attention to that tiny pearl… he flicked his tongue against it and Sansa’s hips jerked upwards and she cried out, “Oh!”

He stopped. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, yes, Jon, please more of that, please,” she begged prettily. 

_Happily_ , he thought. 

He licked at her, rolled his tongue around her little pearl and shoved his tongue inside her. She cried out and panted his name and he was rewarded with her wetness on his lips and beard. Her legs shook and Jon, well, he was quite proud of himself. 

And he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to hear her cry out again. Wanted his name on her lips again and again. 

“Jon, stop,” she gasped and pulled lightly on his hair. 

He got to his knees and she looked at him, her hooded gaze and flushed skin ratcheting up his arousal. He wanted more of that, much more. 

“It feels sensitive now,” she murmured by way of explanation. She lifted an arm and beckoned him to her. 

But first he needed to get rid of his breeches. He climbed off the bed and hastily rid himself of his them and his pantaloons. When he was naked, he started to climb up onto the bed but Sansa stopped him with a quick, “Wait!”

Jon froze and looked at her, wondering if he’d done something wrong, if she found him lacking. He resisted the urge to cover himself up. He slowly lifted his gaze to hers and found her looking him over with rapt attention. 

When she licked her lips, he moaned. He climbed back onto the bed and left a trail of kisses up one leg, he licked her slit, her curls, her hips, her flat stomach and then he got to her breasts and he did what the whore had told him to do and suckled one into his mouth. He felt her nipple bead and he groaned and let her breast go. He looked at her and found her looking at him with the same need that churned inside him. She lifted her hands and spread them over his chest. His muscles rippled under her touch, his cock grew impossibly harder. 

“You’re so beautiful, Jon,” she whispered and sat up to lave one of his nipples with her tongue. 

His hands went to her hair and he speared his fingers through it as she peppered him with kisses and then laved the other nipple with her tongue. She pulled his arms down so that he released her hair and then she took his hands and pressed them against her breasts. 

“Sansa,” he gasped. 

She bit her lip and peered into his eyes while her hand dipped between them and she curled her hand around his shaft. His hips jerked and he thrust involuntarily into her hand with a muttered curse. 

She smiled somewhat triumphantly and began to stroke him. “Do you like this? Am I doing it right for you?” she asked softly. 

“H-harder,” he managed to get out and cried out when she squeezed him tighter and moved her hand faster. 

His hand jutted out and clamped down on her wrist. “No more. I want – I want inside you, Sansa.”

She bit her lip and nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, Jon.”

She held out her arms to him and he went down into her embrace and kissed her passionately. When her tongue slipped into his mouth he groaned and kissed her harder. 

Sansa tore her mouth away and, panting, reached down between them and guided him to her entrance. “Push, darling,” she murmured. 

He did and – 

Oh, God. 

Oh, God. 

Oh, God. 

He held himself inside her tight wet heat and knew that nothing was ever going to feel as good as this. He looked down at her in awe. This woman. This gorgeous woman who had burst into his life in a flame of red had seized him completely. 

_She owned him._

She slid her hands down his back and wrapped her legs around his waist. “All right, Jon?”

He nodded, words escaping him. This was the gloriousness the poets had written about. This was what men lived and died for. This was the heaven. Religion got it all wrong. 

“Move, Jon,” she said and lifted her hips. 

He gasped, and began to move. Slowly at first. He got deeper inside her and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Sansa, you’re so bloody _perfect._ ”

She laughed, somewhat breathlessly. “If I’m so perfect why aren’t you looking at me?”

His eyes flew open and he held her gaze as he moved inside her. Too soon he felt his release coming. He hoped she would take pity on him – it wasn’t as though he had experience being inside a woman. 

“Sansa, I’m…” he couldn’t even say it. He grit his teeth. 

“Get up on your knees,” she whispered. 

He did, and managed to keep inside her. Her legs slipped from his waist and she planted her feet into the bed as she kept her legs wide and open. Jon watched, mesmerized, as his cock moved in and out of her. Then her fingers were on that little pearl and Jon’s hips snapped forward. His instinct was to fuck and to fuck hard and fast and so he did. 

“Jon!” Sansa shouted and she dug the back of her head into the bed and tilted her head back as arched off the bed. 

“Oh God, that’s beautiful,” he breathed and then clenched his eyes tight as her walls pulsed and massaged him. “Sansa, oh God, Sansa, Sansa, Sansa…!”

And then she was gone, her cunt off his cock. He spilled onto her belly, shuddering. He fell onto the bed beside her, panting and shaking and she looked over at him, disheveled and dazed. 

“Why…?” he asked unable to form words just yet. 

“Until you get a cundum, you can’t come inside me, Jon. I might be barren, but just in case…”

Jon knew without a doubt he wanted to come inside her. All the time. “I’ll get one.”

She smiled, reached out and caressed the side of his face. He put his hand over hers and kissed her palm. “How do you feel?” she asked softly. 

He felt so many thing he didn’t know how to articulate it – quite a problem for a writer. Words were his thing, but in this…he was at a loss. 

“Euphoric,” he said. “Happy. Content and yet…I want more.”

She laughed. “Me too,” she admitted. 

“So I was…good?” he asked nervously. 

She smiled. “Wonderful, Jon. You are a considerate lover, not to mention enthusiastic.”

He smiled, pleased that he’d brought her the pleasure he’d so desperately wanted to bring her. 

He got up and climbed off the bed to grab a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. He wiped her stomach free of his seed and then stuffed it back in his pocket and climbed back into bed. He gathered her in his arms, reveling in the feel of her naked body against his. He ran his fingers through her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I want this all the time with you,” he said quietly. “I never want to leave here.”

Sansa began to make nonsensical patterns on his chest with the tip of her finger. “You’ll have to leave eventually so your family doesn’t suspect,” she murmured. 

No. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay right there with her. He knew though that she wouldn’t go for that. She had set the rules after all. “But not yet?” he murmured against her forehead. 

She looked up at him. “Not yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was perhaps a bit not very hot lol. But it was Jon's first time, so I kind of wanted to explore that. I never have before. He's such an innocent little cinnamon roll lol.
> 
> Oh, and cundum is what they used to call condoms. And it was made out of animal intestine.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone! :)

Jon couldn’t sleep. Long after he’d returned home from Sansa’s and retired to his bedchamber, he’d laid in bed reliving every single moment with her. 

He missed her already. 

Was that normal?

He rolled over in bed and shut his eyes, imagining Sansa was there with him. He could still smell her on him a bit…

He got up and went to his desk. He sat down, opened his journal and reached for his pen in the ink pot to jot down the first few lines of a poem:

_As I lay awake  
My feelings do not abate  
You are my fate_

It was awful. He chuckled to himself. He’d never been particularly adept at writing poetry, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He flipped over to a fresh page and instead began to pen his feelings for Sansa in a letter. 

_My Dearest Sansa ~_

_I cannot sleep. You have ruined me. All I can think about is how I want to be with you right now. This very instant. I want to hold you in my arms as we talk about everything and nothing. I want your voice to be the last thing I hear as I drift off. I want your face to be the first thing I see when I wake up. I want little moments with you. I want big moments with you. I want every part of you, Sansa._

Jon put his pen down and stared at what he’d written. His heart pounded in his chest. What he’d written, what he _felt_ … It sounded a lot like love. Having no experience in feeling love, except of course for his siblings, he didn’t know if this was it. Had he made the leap from falling into fallen? Was it supposed to feel both exhilarating and terrifying? Was he supposed to feel so many things at once – like missing Sansa so desperately even though he’d just seen her a few hours ago – and yet still feeling the euphoria of having made love to her? 

Jon snuffed out the candle beside his bed and then climbed in and lay back down. He felt as though he’d just ran around Hyde Park at full speed. Tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow I will see Sansa and everything will be all right.

He fell asleep reliving, again, making love to her. 

xxxxxxxx

Jon’s first task before seeing Sansa was to obtain a cundum. This presented a bit of a problem because he didn’t know where to get one, and he didn’t really want to ask Aegon. His brother would just want to know why he wanted it and who he planned to use it with and Jon didn’t want to take any chances that Aegon would find out about him and Sansa. She had given him a precious gift and he wasn’t about to take any chances with her reputation. 

So, he went to a physician in town and was promptly – and thankfully discreetly – given one. The physician first told him how to clean it and avoid tearing, and then he’d listened to a lecture on whoring while his face flamed red. 

“Settle down, son,” the physician told him. “Whoring isn’t any way to live and find fulfillment.”

Jon thanked him and left quickly. He felt as though everyone he came across after that knew exactly what he now had in his pocket in the little pouch the physician had given him. 

When he’d returned home he’d sent a note to Sansa’s home, only to find out that she had not been there to receive it. She had to be at the Starks, and it was about then that he remembered her reminding him about the ball that they were having that night. 

“Blast,” he muttered. No doubt she was helping her mother prepare for tonight. And then how would he be able to have any time alone with her at the ball? 

His mood turned sour, Jon retreated to the library to read only to find that he couldn’t. So, he grabbed his coat and top hat and headed out to the Stark household to see what scraps of Sansa he could get while there. 

xxxxxxxx

Sansa could feel her mother’s eyes on her as they fiddled with the flower arrangements that had been dropped off that morning for the ball. Catelyn smiled at her as she clipped a flower and Sansa laughed. “Nothing has happened, Mother, I swear it!” she exclaimed happily. “Can’t I just be happy for no apparent reason?”

Catelyn shrugged. “Of course, but that smile…you’ve been beaming since you arrived and there is a certain spring in your step that I’ve not seen since…” She frowned. “Well…”

Sansa pretended not to understand what her mother meant, though she did. She hadn’t been this happy since Harry had been courting her. Yet this was different because Jon was different. His innocence and sweetness…she didn’t think men like him existed anymore. Then here he’d been almost as though he’d been waiting for her to return home and notice him. 

_Goodness, Sansa, that sounds a bit too romantic_ , she scolded herself. _Best not to lose yourself with Jon the way you had with Harry. This is not a permanent thing between you and Jon. He’ll want babies one day and a young wife._

She wondered if Jon had been around when she’d had her come out, would she have even noticed Harry? 

Unfortunately, yes. 

Harry had that charisma and charm. He made everything seem so exciting and fun. He made the scariest things sound like the best things – like marriage for instance. He’d completely sold her on that and then trampled her heart to bits. 

“Did a storm cloud just come in?” Catelyn asked, jarring Sansa out of her thoughts. 

Sansa looked up at her mother. “Pardon?”

“You were smiling and laughing just a second ago and now you’re scowling at the flower arrangement.”

Sansa sighed. “Why do we do this? We order flowers just to maim the arrangements after? We should just do this all on our own from the start?”

“We do it because it saves—”

“Hello!”

Sansa and Catelyn looked over to the door and found Arya stepping inside with Jon in tow. Sansa didn’t particularly like the way her heart leapt at the sight of him. It reminded her too much of how she’d felt every time she’d seen Harry and that just wouldn’t do. It hadn’t taken her long to lose sight of herself with Harry. She would not do that with Jon.

When she looked at him she found his eyes burning with intensity and her breath caught. She looked away and focused on the arrangement before her, her lips pursed together. 

“Hello, Jon, to what do we owe the visit?” Catelyn asked. 

“I was feeling a bit restless this afternoon and decided to pay my favorite people a visit,” he said. 

“Restless, hmmm?” Catelyn said as she put down her flower clippers. “Any particular reason why?”

“I suppose because I woke in such a good mood and just felt the need to share it,” he said. 

Sansa glanced at him, but said nothing.

“Must be something in the air,” Catelyn said with a smile.

“Oh?”

“Sansa has been quite chipper this morning,” Catelyn said. 

“Mother! Honestly,” Sansa scolded gently. 

“What? Am I not allowed to tell people you’re happy?”

“Pray tell, Sansa, what has you so happy today?” Jon asked and looked at her. 

Oh, to play along or no to play along? She decided not. “No particular reason I’m afraid,” she chirped and then grabbed her arrangement and strode to the other side of the room. 

She could feel Jon’s eyes on her and she had to remember to put one foot in front of the other and tamp down the excitement building within her. Bloody hell, she felt like a green girl all over again.

She found she resented Jon a bit for that. 

Jon tried not to follow Sansa with his eyes. Something was wrong. He could feel it. His heart turned over in his chest and he tried to fight off the fear that she regretted last night. God, what if she wanted to put an end to this before it had even began? What about those kisses she had given him before he left last night? She had kissed him like she didn’t want him to go. Had all that changed now in the light of day?

“Come on, Jon, let’s get an ice,” Arya said and pulled on his hand. 

Jon nodded and wished he could find some quick excuse to stay behind and stay close to Sansa, but his fear and worry had stopped his brain from working so he followed her, hating every step that took him further and further away from Sansa.


	16. Chapter 16

Jon’s stomach was in knots as he and his family strode up to the Stark house for the ball. He kept telling himself that Sansa just hadn’t wanted to let on that anything was going on between them and so she had brushed him off to divert any possibility of suspicion. 

She still wanted him; she did. 

She had to. 

He couldn’t be alone in all these feelings. Sansa did have more experience with these sorts of things than he did. Perhaps she hadn’t been as enamored of him as he was of her. Perhaps she was ready to end it already. Maybe she’d been ready after she’d sent him home and just didn’t know how to tell him. 

He had to talk to her. Immediately. His heart felt as though it was twisted inside his chest and he felt as though he couldn’t breathe right. When he saw her he had to look away so as to temper the roiling feelings inside of him. She was so beautiful; so perfect. Tonight she was wearing a green dress that made her look almost ethereal, and she was smiling, standing there with her hands encased in white gloves and clasped before her. He wanted to pull the pins from her hair and run his hands through it. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her and never stop. 

Instead of making a bee line for the nearest empty and available wall, Jon marched over to the Starks. He was determined to talk to Sansa. Determined to ask her to dance. 

Except that Arya stepped in front of him. And then a tall and rather large gentleman that towered over Sansa and was apparently Scottish because he was wearing a kilt, came up to Sansa. 

“Let’s go outside,” Arya said. “I am already tired of this crush.”

“Actually, I—” Jon broke off when he saw Sansa being escorted by the Scot onto the dance floor. 

“You what?” Arya asked with a frown and looked over her shoulder. “What or who are you looking at?”

Jon pursed his lips together. “Nothing. No one.”

Arya arched a brow. “Outside then?”

He shook his head. “No, not yet. I just got here, Arya.”

“So? You hate balls.”

“Arya, I said no.”

“Fine,” Arya snapped and stalked off. Jon sighed and rubbed his forehead. Not even inside a full five minutes and already he’d managed to anger Arya and now had to watch Sansa dance with some Scot. 

Jon made his way over to the Starks and greeted Ned and Catelyn, complimented them on the ball and the turnout, and waited rather impatiently for Sansa to be returned to her family. 

When the dance ended, Jon forced himself not to give anything away as he watched Sansa laugh at something the giant had said. He did make sure, however, to step forward and make sure he was the first thing Sansa saw when she came back. 

It worked. Sansa and the giant stopped right before him and when Jon looked up at the giant, he started. The man had horrible scarring on the side of his face. It looked like burns. He looked away, not wanting to stare. 

“Hello, Lord Jon,” Sansa said. “May I introduce Mr. Clegane?” 

Mr. Clegane held out his hand and Jon took it, shaking it a bit more vigorously than he probably needed to. Mr. Clegane arched a brow at him and then dropped his hand abruptly and bowed to Sansa. “Thank you, Lady Arryn, for the first and perhaps the only dance I will have this evening.”

“Say no such thing, Mr. Clegane,” Sansa said. “If you grow too bored, you have my permission for a second dance.”

“Careful, lass, or I’ll want all of them.” He bowed again and left Jon and Sansa alone. 

“Hello, Jon,” Sansa greeted him cordially. 

“Don’t – don’t say it like that,” Jon muttered. 

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t say it like I don’t mean anything to you,” he whispered. 

“Jon—”

“Why did you agree to dance with him?”

“Am I to be a wallflower as well?”

“No, that’s not – Sansa—”

“Mr. Clegane does not attract a great deal of women due to an unfortunate incident that caused horrible scars on the side of his face. Would you have me be rude to him?”

Now Jon felt ridiculous. And ashamed. “No, of course not. I just don’t want you giving anyone ideas.”

“Ideas such as…?”

“That you’re interested.”

“Do you think I belong to you?”

He wanted to say yes, she did, just as he belonged to her, but he knew that was the wrong answer. Sansa set the rules, that was how she wanted it. If he started making claims she would end it. Jon couldn’t have that. 

“No,” he finally said and she looked pleased by his answer. 

“Perhaps you could come to me,” she said softly. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

Part of him was relieved that she was not done with him, while the other part didn’t want to have to wait so long to be with her again. It must have shown on his face for she smiled a bit and then patted his arm. “It’s but a night and a morning away.”

“May I dance with you?” he asked. 

She frowned slightly. “Arya—”

“Please do not tell me that we cannot dance because of Arya.”

“I’m not convinced she’s not in love with you, Jon.”

“I am. Also, doesn’t what I want matter? I thought I made it clear last night who I wanted.”

Sansa heaved a sigh and reached up to pat an imaginary strand of hair into place. “This is probably not the best time to discuss things,” she said. 

Jon sighed too. She was right. This wasn’t the time or the place to discuss their affair. The whole conversation had gotten away from him and he found he still wasn’t exactly sure where he stood with her. Yes, she wanted him to visit her on the morrow, but he hoped it wasn’t just a quick fuck she wanted. Here he was, desperate for her and she was like ice with him. 

“Do you regret it?” he asked softly. 

She looked at him long and hard and Jon felt as though something beastly inside him wanted to cry out at how long it was taking her to answer him. Then, finally, she said, “No. I should. But I don’t.”

“Why should you?”

She waved a hand. “It matters naught.”

“It matters to me,” he countered. 

“Let’s leave it for now.”

“I want a dance, Sansa. Just one dance.”

She sighed. “After dinner. I don’t think Arya will make it through the whole night, quite frankly. Not even with you here.”

“Fine then, after dinner,” he said. 

Robb and Talisa came up to them then, with a gentleman in tow. He introduced them all and it became clear to Jon that Robb was attempting to play matchmaker. He’d never had any problem with Robb before, in fact he had always rather admired and looked up to the man, but in that moment what Jon wanted more than anything was to punch him. 

“May I have the honor of a dance, Lady Arryn?” the gentleman asked her. 

“Perhaps after her dance with me,” Jon blurted out. Blast it all to hell, that wasn’t going to make her happy. But Jon couldn’t bear it. He would beat all the eligible men of London off with a stick to keep them away from her if he had to. 

“Oh, I’m truly sorry both of you,” Sansa said with a little laugh, “but I am wanting to sit this one out. I do apologize.”

“Another time then,” the gentleman said and departed with a slight bow and a smile. 

“Pardon me,” Sansa said and quickly walked back to her parents and to a chair that was against the wall near them. 

“How are you, Jon?” Robb asked. 

“Well, thank you,” Jon mumbled. “Excuse me.”

He marched off, heading outside to get that breath of fresh air that Arya had so wanted earlier. 

xxxxxxxx

Sansa watched Jon all but run out of the ballroom and she turned in her seat, ready to get up and follow him. She was afraid though, that someone would see her rushing off after him and so she stayed put. 

She felt awful. Absolutely awful. What was the matter with her? She was being difficult and for no good reason other than it scared her what Jon made her feel. One night with him and he’d stirred to life bits of her she’d thought long dead. 

_He’s not Harry_ , she told herself. _He’s Jon. Sweet Jon who was so gentle with me even though it wasn’t my first time, but his. Jon, who held you in his arms and made you feel safe and wanted._

Tears stung her eyes and she forced them back. _I deserve to be happy, damn it all,_ she thought. 

“Sansa, honey, are you feeling well?” 

Sansa looked up at her mother and smiled tremulously. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I suppose I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“I’ve no doubt. You were a busy little bee today helping me prepare for this.” Catelyn sat down beside her. “Do you wish to go home?”

She did. She really did. She didn’t feel like being at another blasted ball even if Jon was here. She needed to sit for a while, alone, and just clear her head and calm her rioting emotions. “I do,” she whispered. 

“Then go, darling,” Catelyn said and patted Sansa’s knee. “Go home and rest.”

Sansa smiled wanly and nodded. “Thank you, Mother. I, uh, I just want to say goodbye to a few people.”

“Of course,” Catelyn said with a smile. 

Sansa bit her lip as she headed towards the doors Jon had departed from earlier and hoped she was able to find him…

xxxxxxx

Jon gripped the railing that overlooked the small gardens behind the Stark house. Fresh air wasn’t working. His nerves were still frayed and Arya had gotten off to who knew where. 

“Jon.”

He looked over his shoulder and found Sansa coming toward him. He straightened and faced her. “If you’re going to take me to task—”

“I’m not,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I – I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Well, no, I do, but I’m not ready to share—”

“Sansa, please—”

“I’m leaving for the night.”

His heart sank. “You are?”

She nodded and then bit her lip. “If you…if you wanted to leave later perhaps after dinner…?”

“Sansa, are you asking me to come and see you tonight?”

She nodded. 

“I’ll be there,” he breathed and balled his hands into fists so he didn’t grab her and yank her to him. “I’ll get away as soon as I can.”

“Perhaps after dinner? The ball will go for a few more hours after that. Do you suppose your siblings will stay until the end? ”

“Yes, I’ve no doubt they will.”

“Then come to me after dinner.”

He looked at her solemnly. “The last bite won’t be down my throat before I am out the door,” he vowed. 

She laughed softly and then looked at him in all seriousness. “I am sorry, Jon.”

“You’re letting me see you tonight,” he whispered. “That’s all the apology I need.”

She smiled and then was gone in a flurry of skirts. Jon watched her go until she was out of sight and then he turned back to the railing and gripped it again. This time with excitement and the sweetness of anticipation.


	17. Chapter 17

Time crept by at a snail’s pace for Jon. By the time it was time to feast, Jon was ready to scream. He ate, but tasted nothing. He spoke, but hardly knew what he said. He ran over and over in his mind how he’d escape after dinner, tell his family he was done for the night and leave for Sansa’s. 

“Oh, but Jon why do you have to leave?” Dany whined after dinner was done. 

“It’s not like he’s going to do any dancing anyway,” Aegon drawled. 

“He could dance with me!” Dany exclaimed. 

“If I was going to dance with you I would have already done it,” Jon told her, trying to sound calm and not at all anxious to get out of there as he was. “Besides, you have Drogo to focus on.”

Dany blushed and her smile gave her away. She was in love. The mere mention of Drogo and Dany was all smiles. And her excitement when she knew she was going to see him.

Well. Didn’t that sound familiar?

He would think about that later though. He kissed his sister’s forehead, shook his brother’s hand, and said good night to his parents and then he was off, his face splitting into a wide smile. Finally!

xxxxxxx

When Sansa heard the scratch at her back door she knew it was Jon. Her heart started to hammer hard in her chest and she got up from where she’d been attempting to read in the drawing room and forced herself to walk – not run – to the door. Her butler was there, looking at her in question, and she shook her head. 

He ambled off and Sansa pressed her hand to the door knowing Jon was on the other side. She didn’t want to feel this excited. This desperate to see him. Her skin felt tight and warm. Her breathing had already kicked up. God, she was practically panting already! 

“Sansa,” she heard him whine through the door. 

She turned the handle and opened the door and there he was. Jon. Sweet Jon. He looked as desperate as she felt. And then in the next second she felt it in his embrace, in his passionate kiss, in the way he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the drawing room. 

Not the stairs that led to her bedchamber. 

“Jon?” she asked and looked toward the stairs. 

“Not now,” he whispered. “I need you too badly.”

A shiver went through her. No one had ever wanted her like that. Even when Harry had been seducing her he had never made her feel this wanted. This desired. 

“Here you are in your robe and night rail, your hair down,” Jon muttered. “And I’ve been desperate for you all day.”

He kicked the door shut to the drawing room and carried her over to the fire place. He set her down and kissed her deeply while his hands pulled at the tie on her robe. “Do you have any idea how maddening it was to have to wait until after dinner?” he muttered. He pushed her robe off her shoulders and stopped, his breath hitching. “Sansa,” he breathed as he gazed at her. 

She smiled. “Do you like it?” She had saved a few of her more risqué night gowns and they had hung in the back of her wardrobe with no hope of seeing the light of day again. Or night as the case may be. She’d selected a black silk one that hugged her curves and accentuated her breasts. Harry hadn’t been particularly interested in it, but Jon clearly was. The bulge in his breeches was prominent. 

He dropped to his knees before her and she looked down at him, startled. “Jon?”

He pushed up the hem of her night gown until it was bunched up in his hands at her waist. “You’re bare for me,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her mound. 

A whimper escaped Sansa and he looked up at her, his eyes hot and full of need and…and something else that made her heart stutter in her chest. 

“Move your legs apart for me,” he whispered. 

She did and she felt his hand glide up her leg and then inside her thigh. The first flick of his tongue and Sansa’s hands went to his hair. “Jon,” she gasped. 

He licked at her greedily, his tongue flicking against her nub, swirling around it, and then she felt the pad of his thumb there. 

“Sansa, I… can I put my finger inside you?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she practically sobbed. 

While laving that special spot with his tongue he sank one long finger inside her and she cried out, her hands gripping his hair. She loosened her hold, but Jon didn’t seem to care or mind or even notice. Slowly, he used his finger the way he would his cock and all of it – his need, her need, his touch and his tongue – she came, crying out. 

His finger slipped out of her and he pulled her down by her hips to the floor and kissed her hard, bending her nearly backwards in his passion. She could taste herself on him and she thought it should disgust her, but it didn’t. If anything it made her want him, want this, even more. She pushed his suit jacket off and he helped her, with his mouth never leaving hers. His vest was next, followed by his cravat and then shirt. 

“Don’t move,” he whispered and stood, kicking off his boots and the rest of his clothes. Then he grabbed pillows off her sofa and settee and Sansa laughed with pure joy watching his haste. 

When she made to slip her gown off he shook his head. “Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “I want to do that.”

She bit her lip and waited for him to join her. He swore as he wrestled with his suit jacket and pulled out a pouch and inside the pouch he pulled out the cundum. He looked pained as he got back down on his knees before her. He was hard and dripping and Sansa reached out and stroked him with her hand. He moaned and stilled her with his hand on her wrist. “I need inside you,” he gasped. “I’ve never…help me…”

Sansa took the cundum from him and showed him how to encase himself with it and then tie it off at the end. His eyes shut, his teeth grinding. When she was done, his eyes popped open and he reached down and lifted the hem of her gown up and then over her head. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered as he ran his hands over her. “Every second without you today was torture. I couldn’t sleep for wanting you. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t concentrate…” He bent his head and suckled one nipple into his mouth, and then the next. 

Sansa pulled away from him and he reached out for her with a whimper. She smiled gently at him as she lay back amidst the pillows on the floor and spread her legs. “Have me, Jon,” she murmured. 

He moved over, bracing his hands on either side of her as he lowered his hips down to nudge at her entrance and lay between her legs. 

Jon had thought last night he had been in a bad way over her, but somehow it didn’t compare to now. To how utterly desperate he was for her. Perhaps it was because he’d been worried for most of the day that she was done with him, or perhaps it was knowing now how beautiful making love was and how he wanted to share it so badly with Sansa, or maybe it was just simply Sansa and all the feelings she invoked in him. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her. Perhaps it was too soon to think that, but he couldn’t imagine a day where he wouldn’t want her skin under his hands, her face and her smiles in his view. 

He watched her reach between them and guide his cock to her entrance. Jon pushed forward and he groaned, his head dropping at the sensation of being encased inside her tightness. 

“I –“ He broke off, knowing the words that followed that “I”. He stilled inside her, his heart racing, his head swimming. _Oh God,_ he thought. _I do._

Sansa pulled at his hips and then her hands slid up his chest to his face and she pulled him down for a kiss. 

_I love you_ , Jon thought as he began to move inside her. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

Sansa moaned when Jon shifted just slightly. Whatever spot he just hit, she liked it. So he kept going, faster and faster within her wet depths in. that. spot. 

She clutched at him, her nails digging into his skin. 

“More,” he gasped. “I need more.”

“Of what?” she murmured. “Tell me.”

“You. I need more of you.”

“You have me,” she whispered and kissed him again. 

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. Her legs went around his waist and he sank even deeper inside her. She gasped and moved her mouth away from his and he chased her lips and kissed her again and again and again. 

He was pounding inside her now, the sound of their flesh filling the room. 

_I love you!_ he shouted in his head. _I love you!_

She tore her mouth away again and her head arched back and she let out a keening cry. Jon buried his face in her neck and bit down on the spot where her neck and shoulder met. He wanted to shout he loved her out loud. He was afraid how she’d react so he didn’t. 

“Sansa!” he shouted when his crisis came. He sobbed, whimpered, gasped – he did it all as he flooded the cundum with his seed. 

He kept his face buried in her neck as he slowly came down from his high. Her hands stroked his back lazily. 

“Are you all right?” she asked softly. 

He nodded, his eyes shutting tight. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and didn’t move. _I love you, I love you, God help me, I’m so in love with you_ , he thought as tears leaked from his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope Jon being emotional isn't too schmaltzy. In my mind he's got the heart of a poet and he's such a romantic. He's so overwhelmed by what he feels for Sansa, and this is all so new to him still that it kind of just bowls him over.


	18. Chapter 18

Something was wrong. Something had shifted. Sansa could feel it. Especially in the way Jon was clinging to her and were those tears she felt on her skin?

“Jon?” she murmured gently, running her hands through his hair. “Look at me, please?”

He lifted his head and sure enough his eyes were wet. Startled, Sansa wiped his tears away. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m just – I’m…relieved.”

She blinked. “Relieved?”

He nodded. “After I saw you at your parents I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “But now I know you do. Right?” He searched her eyes for confirmation, looking at her almost pleadingly. 

She reached up and stroked the side of his face gently with a smile. “I do. Very much. Couldn’t you tell just now?”

He nodded, his gaze running over her face. She felt as though he was drinking her in, memorizing her, as though this was the end. The thought of that frightened her. And then frightened her even more when she realized how the thought of being parted from Jon terrified her so. 

That was not part of the plan. 

She shifted under him. “Perhaps we should get up.”

“Am I crushing you?”

“No, but—”

“Please, Sansa, let me just hold you a while longer. Please?”

How could she say no to that? “All right,” she said softly and wound her arms back around him while he buried his face in her neck. When she felt his tongue lick at her skin, she shivered. His head popped up a bit and he smiled at her before ducking his head and pressing a kiss to the spot he’d kissed. Then he bit it gently, and then he began to suck on the skin. 

Sansa, pushed him away and furrowed her brows at him. “What are you doing? You’ll leave a mark.”

“I want to,” he said with a playful grin. “I want to mark you as mine.”

She shook her head. “You can’t. People will see it and know. Jon, why—”

He moved down her body a bid and pressed a kiss to the side of her breast. “How about here. No one but you and I will know it’s there.”

“There’s no reason to mark me, Jon. I’m right here.”

He looked up at her, his expression inscrutable as he stared long and hard at her as though trying to decipher something in her words or in her face. It was a tad unnerving and increased the sense in Sansa that something was different. 

The way he’d made love to her had been even more passionate than the night before, but she chalked that up to the fact that he had a sense of what he was doing now. Also, he was a man. Men loved sex. Jon might not be like most men, but some things were true for all men. 

He’s a romantic, too, the little voice in her head said. You had to know he would put more into the act than other, more experienced men might. If there was anyone to attach feelings to this affair, it would be Jon. 

“Was it hard to get the cundum?” she asked, hoping to break the sudden tension she could feel in the air. 

He groaned. “I had to listen to a lecture on whoring. It was awful.”

She bit her lip and giggled and he laughed softly. “I didn’t think it funny at the time,” he admitted. “But now I do. Or maybe because I’m just so damn happy to be here with you that I simply don’t care about anything else.”

“That’s dangerous,” she blurted out, her smile dropping. 

He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, forget I said—”

“No, tell me, Sansa,” he encouraged gently. “You can tell me anything.”

She sighed. “Well, I remember feeling that way with Harry in the beginning.” Despite the fact that Jon’s expression darkened, she continued, “And…well, it was devastating when he made it clear he didn’t want me.”

“I’m not Harry, Sansa,” he told her sternly. 

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Jon—”

“I’m not Harry. I’m Jon Targaryen and you’re Sansa Stark. And when we’re together, nothing and no one else matters. What came before this doesn’t matter. Harry’s not here, Sansa. I am.”

She nodded. Carefully, Jon eased himself off of her and rolled onto the rug beside her. He then sat up and pulled off the cundum. He made a face as he looked at it and Sansa couldn’t help but giggle at his expression. She sat up as well and reached for her robe. “Why don’t you go to the backdoor and dump the um, contents of that? Then we can go up to my bedchamber and clean it out with some water, hmm?”

He nodded as he watched her tie off her robe, almost wistfully as though he didn’t want her to cover herself, and then he stood there, looking awkward with the cundum in his hand. 

Sansa took it from him and he looked at her in surprise. She shrugged. “It was inside me wasn’t it?”

He reddened at that and hurriedly threw on his breeches and shirt. The rest he picked up and laid down on the nearby settee. “I’ll get them later,” he told her.

Sansa followed him out into the hall and while Jon disposed of the contents of his cundum outside, Sansa waited for him at the stairs. When he joined her again, they ascended the stairs to her bedchamber. 

For Sansa, this reminded her of the times she and Harry would retire to bed early in their marriage before it all went to hell. The sweetness of knowing she was with her husband at the end of the day, how they would discuss whatever popped in their minds as they made their way up to their bedchambers, and then anticipating his arrival to her bedchamber after they’d both prepared themselves for bed. 

_There is no place for Harry here_ , she reminded herself. It was rather frustrating that she couldn’t seem to stop herself from thinking of him. But then how could she not when he had been such a significant part of her life and had changed the course of her life and caused the shattering of so many dreams and wishes?

Jon, for his part, was already feeling anxious about the fact that he would have to eventually leave Sansa for the evening. He anticipated at least another couple hours before the ball was well and truly over and he would have to be home just in case his family wished to seek him out. 

But how, after just discovering the depth and breadth of his feelings for Sansa could he leave her? He rather felt this was a disgrace to her. It gave her the quality of being a lady of the night in the way he snuck in, stole a few precious hours of bliss with her and then snuck back out. Aegon did it all the time with the various affairs he had, and Jon knew how society looked at it; it was not so disparaging for a man to do it, but for the woman involved…he was well aware of the double standard. It wasn’t until now though that he gave much thought to how a possible discovery of their affair could affect Sansa. 

Was it because he was in love with her that he thought of it now, and how this could harm her? Was it because he was now thinking that there was only one thing left to do when you loved a woman and wanted to be with her for the rest of your life? 

He felt shame when he looked down at the cundum in his hand. He didn’t like a barrier between him and his love. It cheapened what this was, sullied it. Made it dirty. What he felt was the purest thing he’d ever known and to condemn them both to late night assignations and hurried clandestine conversations at balls felt wrong. 

Once they reached Sansa’s bedchamber, she pointed to where he could wash the cundum out while she went to her vanity and ran a brush through her hair. When Jon was done cleaning the cundum and had placed it back in its pouch, he placed it on her bureau and went to stand behind Sansa. She smiled at him through the mirror, and he sank to his knees behind her and kissed the back of her neck. She put down her brush and turned her head to kiss him, and he kissed her hungrily and yet reverently. 

_I love you_ , he thought. 

She turned in her seat and went to stand, but Jon stayed her placing his hands on her hips. She looked down at him in question and in answer he kept his eyes locked on hers while he undid the tie of her robe. 

He then parted it, spread her legs open and moved in closer to her. He ran his gaze all over her. Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue out and swirled it around a nipple. Then he suckled her breast into his mouth. She moaned and carded her hands into his hair. He then left a trail of kisses to her other breast and treated her other breast to the same attention. Then he began leaving a trail of kisses down her flat stomach, over her hips, and then down to her mound. He took her nub in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it again and again. 

“Jon,” she moaned. 

“I love your cunt,” he murmured as he slipped one finger inside her. “I love how it tastes. I love how pink it is. I love the sounds you make when I touch you there.”

“Oh God,” she whimpered. 

Jon put his mouth back on her nub and spelled out _I love you_ with his tongue while sawing his finger back and forth inside her. She came, wetting his beard, and still he did not stop, until she pushed at him to do so. He slipped his finger out of her and left wet kisses on the insides of her thighs before kissing his way back up her body. When he finally got to her mouth, she kissed him hungrily and Jon gathered her up in his arms and held her close to him. The words were right there; he wanted to badly to say them but he didn’t want to scare her and there were things he needed to think about. 

Sansa broke the kiss and stood and Jon gazed up her, at his Goddess, and she held out her hand to him. He took it and stood and drew her back into his arms again. She bit her lip as she pulled back and considered him thoughtfully. 

His skin was humming, his cock hard. He wanted her again. “Let’s go to bed,” he whispered and ran his thumb over her nipple. 

“Not yet,” she murmured and then sat back down. He looked down at her. “Sansa?”

She undid his breeches and pulled them down and his hard cock sprang free. When she took him in hand he thought he might come right then and there. And then she put her mouth on him and he thought he would die. 

His hands went to her hair and he gripped her silky strands in his hands, though not hard. She was determined in her task as she bobbed her head back and forth on him. 

“I’ve only done this a few times,” she murmured when she took her mouth off him. “So, I’m not very good at it.” He wanted to kill Harry. He hadn’t deserved this bliss. 

“I’ve never had it done,” he told her. “So I have nothing to – oh, God, Sansa, that feels so good!” He moaned. “Look at me,” he begged. “I want to see your eyes.”

She peered up at him through hooded eyes and Jon thought he might cry again. She was so bloody perfect and his – she was his. 

When she sucked hard on the head of his cock, he nearly went cross-eyed. When she flattened her tongue on the underside of his cock and moved it back and forth, he thought he would turn to ash. And then she touched his balls with her hand and that was it. “Sansa, move,” he managed to croak. 

She moved her head off of him, but then took him in hand and stroked him again and again until he came with cry right on her perfect breasts. She smiled up at him. “Did you like that, Jon?”

He dropped back to his knees, his whole body trembling from the force of his orgasm and his love for her. He kissed her deeply until they were both breathless and then he looked at her, her face cradled in his hands. “I want to stay the night,” he whispered.


	19. Chapter 19

Sansa looked at him a bit sadly. “Oh, Jon. You know that can’t happen. You’ve got to be home before the ball is over.”

Jon sighed and shut his eyes as he drew her head down to his and pressed their foreheads together. “I know I just wish…” _That I never had to leave. That I could stay here with you forever,_ he thought. 

“I know,” she murmured, sounding almost wistful. 

Jon moved his head back and studied her. Did she feel it too? Was she experiencing the same feelings? If she was, why didn’t she say anything? 

_Because of Harry. ___

__Or she didn’t feel the same way at all. That was much too depressing to contemplate. Plus, it couldn’t be true. Sansa wanted him enough to be with him like this and she was not the sort to engage in an affair without feelings attached. She had to feel as he did, or at the very least damn close to it. So, how did he find out exactly? He feared in trying to pull a confession from her he would give himself up and if she wasn’t ready to hear it…_ _

__“Jon, are you sure you’re all right?” she asked._ _

__He stood and drew her up to her feet. “I want to make love to you again,” he murmured._ _

__“I want you to,” she murmured back and led him to her bed._ _

__xxxxxxxxxx_ _

__“Jon! Jon! Wake up!”_ _

__Jon’s eyes popped open and he saw Dany standing by his bed looking about ready to suffer apoplexy. Her eyes were wide, she looked pale, and her mouth was twisted into a half grimace and half smile. Her hands were pressed to her heart as though she was afraid it was going to leap out of her chest. Or she was suffering palpitations._ _

__“What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat up, looking up at her in concern. “Are you well?”_ _

__“Drogo is here!” she exclaimed. “He’s come to speak with Father. Finally!”_ _

__Jon laughed. “Dany you look about ready to keel over. Sit down for God’s sake and breathe!”_ _

__Dany sat, but then sprang up and began to pace. “I’m going to get married, Jon. Married. And to a man I love and adore. A man that loves and adores me back!”_ _

__Jon smiled, though his thoughts drifted to Sansa. Had she been this happy on the day Harry had asked her father for her hand? She had to have been. She’d loved him at that time after all._ _

__“Father is speaking with him now, you say?” Jon asked._ _

__Dany nodded, her eyes still wide._ _

__Jon cleared his throat. “Dany, could you perhaps leave so that I may dress, please?”_ _

__“Oh! Of course, of course. I’ll go bother Aegon. I think he’s still abed as well.”_ _

__Jon pulled the bell for the servants and hoped his valet came alone with fresh water in which to clean himself. Once Dany was out the room, Jon climbed out of bed and went to his wardrobe. He hoped he managed to dress quickly enough before Drogo left for he had a few things to say to the man._ _

__xxxxxx_ _

__Jon rapped on the door to the library where his father was speaking with Drogo._ _

__“Yes, Dany, we are almost done now!” his father called out and Jon laughed to himself. She must have been making herself quite a nuisance before coming to wake him._ _

__“Father, it’s me. Jon,” he said through the door. “May I come in?”_ _

__“Yes, yes, of course.”_ _

__Jon let himself inside and found his father behind his desk and Drogo sitting on the other side of the desk facing him. For a man that often looked quite fierce, Drogo looked downright nervous. Jon wasn’t sure why exactly. It wasn’t as though Rhaegar wasn’t going to approve the match, and it wasn’t as though Dany was ever going to say no. If she could have screamed her assent to the marriage from the rooftops she probably would have._ _

__Jon’s thoughts drifted back to Sansa once again. How would he feel asking her for her hand? He didn’t even have to really think about that. He’d be bloody terrified, but the circumstances were different for Jon than they were for Drogo. Drogo was assured of Dany’s love, Jon didn’t know at all if he had Sansa’s. He had some part of her, but just how much?_ _

__“Has everything been squared away then?” Jon asked as he approached the desk._ _

__“Yes, everything has been settled,” Rhaegar said with a smile. “All that’s left is for your sister to accept him and considering how she flew into a tizzy as soon as Drogo arrived, I don’t think that will be a problem.”_ _

__“May I speak to Drogo alone for a minute?” Jon asked his father._ _

__“I don’t mind at all,” Rhaegar said, looking a bit surprised. He looked at Drogo. “Do you mind speaking with Jon a moment while I fetch, Dany?”_ _

__“Not at all,” Drogo said with a nod._ _

__Rhaegar got up, patted Jon on the back and began whistling on his way out the door. Jon looked down at Drogo who now appeared considerably calmer. Well, he supposed he was far less intimidating than his father, Jon figured. Or anyone at all, he thought._ _

__Jon held out his hand. “Congratulations are in order.”_ _

__Drogo took his hand and they shook quickly. “I still have to ask your sister.”_ _

__“Considering she woke me up from a dead sleep in her excitement, I don’t think you need to worry.”_ _

__Drogo’s lips spread into a slow and beaming smile. Jon sat where his father had been sitting and frowned thoughtfully. “I’m sure my father said something to you about this, and I’ve no doubt that Aegon will too, but I have my own concerns, Drogo. See, you’re marrying my sister. I might be the baby of the family, but the fact remains that she is still my sister and it’s my duty as her brother, no matter my age, to make sure she’s taken care of.”_ _

__“You want to make sure I don’t hurt her.”_ _

__Jon nodded. “Yes. Exactly that.”_ _

__Drogo smirked. “Your father threatened to shoot me. You’re not going to do that?”_ _

__“I’m a writer, Drogo. I can eviscerate you in other ways.”_ _

__Drogo threw his head back and laughed. “The pen is mightier than the sword?”_ _

__“Just so.”_ _

__Drogo nodded. “It must be for that terrifies me more somehow. You are a quiet, Jon, but I know you see everything. I’ve often wondered about all the things you’ve observed that no one is aware of.”_ _

__Jon smiled. “I’d never thought of it that way. I thought I was just being shy.”_ _

__Drogo smiled and then sighed and looked at him seriously. “Jon, I love your sister very much. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. If I did, it would be unintentional.”_ _

__“You’ll not cheat on her?”_ _

__Drogo looked horrified at the thought which eased Jon’s worry considerably. “Of course not. I can’t imagine ever wanting another woman the way that I…”_ _

__Jon held up a hand. “Say no more. Thank you.”_ _

__“You’re welcome.”_ _

__Jon looked toward the door and then back at Drogo. “When did you know?”_ _

__“Pardon?”_ _

__“When did you know you loved Dany?”_ _

__Drogo smiled. “When I asked her to dance the first time and she told me she wasn’t sure if she should considering I was already stepping on her foot.”_ _

__Jon chuckled. “That sounds like her.”_ _

__“Your sister is my match in every way.”_ _

__Jon nodded, thinking of Sansa and how she was his match. He may have realized just last night he was in love with Sansa, but thinking back…it was when he’d met her in the book store and she’d taken his book recommendations that he must have fallen. She’d been so kind and so patient with him. “What made you decide that you wanted to marry her? Was it just because it’s the natural way of things, because you felt it was your duty or…?”_ _

__Drogo cocked his head to the side. “I’m getting the impression that you’re not really asking about me. Something you’re thinking about, Jon?”_ _

__Jon shifted in his chair. “Perhaps.”_ _

__“The Stark girl?”_ _

__Jon’s eyes widened. Did he know?! “The – how did – wait.” He frowned. “Do you mean Arya?”_ _

__“Of course. Who else?”_ _

__Jon sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Is this something everyone thinks? That Arya and I are destined to wed?”_ _

__Now Drogo frowned. “You don’t wish to wed her?”_ _

__“No, I don’t. Arya is a friend to me and nothing more.”_ _

__“Then who…?”_ _

__Jon shook his head. “It matters not. I just want to know what made you decide to wed Dany?”_ _

__“When I knew I loved her and wanted to spend every single day with her at my side.”_ _

__Jon’s breath caught. He nodded. That was how he felt about Sansa. He wanted to wake up with her in his arms after having fallen asleep with her there. He wanted days spent inside reading and making love with her. He wanted to know that she would be on his arm when they attended balls._ _

__It was a scary prospect, marriage. Until now he had thought it was something he didn’t need to think about for some time but how could he not now when all he wanted to do was truly make Sansa his?_ _

__“Thank you, Drogo,” Jon said._ _

__“Are you done yet?!”_ _

__At the sound of Dany on the other side of the door, Jon and Drogo laughed together. Drogo stood. “If you don’t mind…?”_ _

__Jon shook his head and got to his feet. “By all means. She’s liable to turn into a fire-breathing dragon if you don’t propose already. Be prepared for her to say yes before you even get the words out.”_ _

__Drogo grinned. “I wouldn’t mind.”_ _

__Jon shook his hand again and departed. He kissed his sister on the cheek despite the glare she leveled him._ _

__After the proposal and the shrieks of “Yes! Yes! Yes!” had echoed through the house, champagne was brought out and there was much celebration. After a while, Jon managed to escape. He wanted to share this good news with Sansa. He also just wanted to see her, and found he couldn’t wait until that night. It was possible he was a bit drunk from all the champagne Aegon kept pouring in his glass, too._ _

__He grabbed his book of poetry to share with her and departed on foot to her home. It was a bit of a walk, but it was beautiful out and he was in good spirits. He went to the back and rapped on the door and when one of her maids answered the door he pushed his way in, unable to contain his excitement at seeing his lady. He also could not stop smiling. “Can you let Lady Arryn know Lord Jon Targaryen is here to see her?” he asked._ _

__“I’m sorry, my lord, but Lady Arryn is not at home.”_ _

__Dammit. He should have sent a note around to find out if she’d gone to see her family. He sighed. “I see. She must be at the Starks then.”_ _

__“No, my lord. She went on a carriage ride with a Mr. Petyr Baelish.”_ _

__Jon’s smile fell. “Who the bloody hell is Mr. Petyr Baelish?”_ _

__The maid shrank back from him and Jon felt a bit guilty for having snapped at the poor girl._ _

__“He’s never come round before,” the maid said quietly. “But he seemed to know Lady Arryn well. He mentioned Paris…”_ _

__Jon’s jaw clenched. He considered going to Hyde Park, which was no doubt where they’d gone. In the end though, he decided to wait for Sansa. “I will see myself to the drawing room then,” Jon said darkly. “I will wait for Lady Arryn to come back home. Be sure to let her know I’m here when she arrives.”_ _


	20. Chapter 20

The curricle hadn’t even stopped yet and already Sansa was saying her goodbye’s to Lord Petyr Baelish. She hadn’t even wanted to go out with him, but it was either stay in her home and give him ideas that were never ever going to come to pass or go out. Sansa preferred to go out. She didn’t trust Petyr one whit. 

“Thank you, Petyr, for the ride through Hyde Park. It is a most beautiful day for such an excursion,” she told him. 

“It is quite warm, is it not? I’ve worked up quite a thirst,” Petyr said. 

_You’re not coming in my home no matter how many hints you drop_ , she thought as he slowed and then stopped the curricle at the curb in front of her door. Sansa had never moved so fast in her life to climb out. 

Petyr wasn’t having it though. He stayed her by grabbing her hand as soon as she’d stood. She looked down at him, trying to keep her temper in check. The thing with Petyr was that if he realized he was making her uncomfortable he would just keep on doing it. He enjoyed making her squirm. 

“Sansa, may I come in so that we may talk some more?” he asked, looking up at her so innocently. 

Sansa’s jaw clenched and she tried her best not to scream at him. “No, Petyr, I believe we are done now. You’ve apologized, and I’ve accepted your apology. I suggest we part now as friends.”

“Why wouldn’t we otherwise, Sansa?” he asked. 

As if he didn’t know. This had been his plan all along. To dress up what he really wanted from her behind an empty apology. She most heartily did not accept his apology, but she’d done so in the hopes it would make him go away quicker. She should have known better. A snake like Petyr found an opening and slipped through it first chance he got. That was what had made him believe he could attempt to seduce her in Paris. 

Sansa attempted to pull her hand from his grasp, but he held on, tightening his grip almost painfully. The naïve girl she’d once been might have been cowed by this, but the woman she was now had had enough. She glowered at him and leaned down. He lifted his face as though he hoped she’d kiss him. 

“Let go of my hand now, or I’ll scream,” she hissed. “If you must know, Petyr, the only reason I listened to you this afternoon is so you’d go away that much faster. I see now that your apology was a farce and my courtesy in vain.” Shock registered on his features and she used the opportunity to yank her hand free. “I suggest you slither back under the rock you came from and do not dare to darken my door again.” She climbed down from the curricle quickly, shot him one last glare, and then up to her door she went. 

Her hands shook, and she was ever so thankful when her butler opened the door to let her inside. “Lock it, please,” she instructed her butler and undid her bonnet and slipped it off followed by her cloak.

One of her maids came running to help her and whispered. “My lady, Lord Jon Targaryen is here to see you. He refused to leave after I told his lordship that you had left for a ride with Lord Baelish. He is waiting in the drawing room for you.”

Sansa looked at her maid in surprise, her mind trying to process that Jon was here while still dwelling on what sort of retaliation Petyr would take on her for giving him that set down. He had deserved it – and more – but she also knew that in doing so she had no doubt sparked his ire and he wouldn’t just slither away as she’d told him to. He’d be back, and Sansa did not feel up to the task of fighting him off. 

“My lady.”

Sansa turned as she handed off her cloak to her maid and frowned at Jon, who was standing in the doorway of her drawing room looking enraged. Wonderful. Just what she needed. 

“Would you like anything, my lady?” her maid asked. 

Sansa shook her head. “Please leave myself and Lord Jon alone.”

“Yes, my lady.” 

Sansa walked with a purpose towards Jon and he stepped aside to let her pass. She hadn’t gotten very far when he kicked the door shut behind her, grabbed her, and pushed her back against the door. He leaned in. “Who was that?” he snarled. “I watched you from the window. It looked like you were having an intimate conversation, _Lady Arryn_.”

Sansa’s eyes narrowed and she sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”

“A bit. Is that not what a man does when he learns his woman is accepting carriage rides with other men?” 

She laughed humorlessly. “Your _woman_? I do not think so.” She pushed him away from her and he reared back. She then moved away from the door and stalked over to the bar and poured herself a glass of brandy. She downed two fingers in quick succession and then slammed the glass down and faced Jon. “I’d like for you to leave now.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I want you to go.”

“No,” he said simply. “I deserve answers—”

“You deserve absolutely nothing,” she spat. “Who do you think you are coming here and refusing to leave while I’m not at home – and now, while I am! Should I have one of my footmen have you removed?”

“Goddammit, Sansa, who was that? Why was he holding your hand? I am tired of you treating me like I’m some kind of fucking child!” Jon shouted at her. “You tell me when to come and when to go—”

“For all you listen!”

He stormed over to her and Sansa stared him down refusing to back down. She wasn’t afraid of Jon, she knew he’d never hurt her, but her fear of Petyr had her reeling. Under different circumstances perhaps she would have teased Jon for being jealous over nothing, but at the moment she was furious with Petyr for having tracked her down, furious with herself for having gone with him for a ride when she should have just kicked him out on his ear, and now furious with Jon for showing up and waiting for her to return home as though he was her keeper. What if Arya had shown up and seen him? Or Margaery?

Jon stopped just inches from her and his gaze bore into hers. “I do listen to you. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I reserve the right—”

“You have no rights,” she snapped. “You are not my lord and master, Jon Targaryen.”

He looked as though he wanted to shout the house down. She had never seen him so angry before; he vibrated with it. “Who. Was. He?”

Sansa shut her eyes briefly and prayed for patience. “He was someone I used to know and wished I hadn’t.”

“Was he…you said you took no lovers.”

“I didn’t. Not for his lack of trying.”

“Is that what he wanted here today?” Jon demanded. 

“Yes.”

“And you went for a ride with him?!”

Sansa sighed and poured another finger of brandy. “It was either stay here and let him attempt to seduce me in my own home or leave. I preferred to leave.”

“Is he someone you’ve kept in touch with?”

“God, no! Who do you take me for?”

His jaw clenched, Jon raked a hand through his hair. “You are determined to put thoughts and words in my mouth I see.”

Sansa wanted to snap at him again, but she refrained. She needed to calm down. She poured another finger of brandy and tossed it back. 

“I’ve never seen you drink so much,” Jon said with a frown. 

“I’ve never seen you drunk and so demanding and unreasonable,” she snipped back. 

Now Jon looked as though he prayed for patience. “Sansa…”

“He is Lord Petyr Baelish and he was a friend of Harry’s. Apparently, Harry knew him for a long time, well before he courted me. Harry rather…looked up to Petyr.”

“First name basis?”

Sansa just arched a brow and Jon shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Proceed, please.”

“Petyr encouraged Harry to marry though Harry did not want to unless it was Lady Melisandre. Petyr advised him that he could marry and keep Lady Melisandre as his lover.”

Jon’s anger appeared to have seeped out of him. He reached out for her, but she walked abruptly away, the glass still in her hand. 

“When I first met Petyr I knew nothing of this. Harry told me all about it during a drunken row with me over his affairs. Not knowing any of what he’d advised Harry to do, Petyr pretended to be my friend for a period of time. In fact, he became a trusted friend. A confidante. I learned early on how pitied I was by the other ladies we knew, and I didn’t wish to unburden myself with them and Petyr made it so easy to do. Too easy. Not only did he help in creating my heart ache, but he used it to try and get me in his bed.”

Jon sucked in a sharp breath. 

“I denied him. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t had opportunity before then, and it would have been so easy to have all the affairs I wanted, but I couldn’t. The circles we moved in…” She made a face. “The men and even most of the women were disgusting the way they carried on as though it was a game. As though it meant nothing. To them I suppose it didn’t for they didn’t seem to have hearts, but for me it wasn’t easy. And I didn’t want to be just another woman in another man’s bed. I felt betrayed by Petyr. He’d used my pain to try to bed me and I rebuffed him. Told him to stay away from me. That was two weeks before Harry died. One week after that Harry had told me all about how his dear friend had told him he could get married and do his duty and just have as many affairs as he wanted afterwards. I refused to see Petyr while in mourning, and Harry’s parents kept all manner of people away from me – at my request. I thought I had escaped Petyr Baelish. I was wrong. He’d found me and wished to apologize for his behavior.” 

“Why didn’t you kick him out?” Jon asked softly. 

“Because I knew with Petyr it wouldn’t have mattered. He wouldn’t have taken my saying no to seeing him as the final answer on the matter. He would have seen it as a challenge. I thought if I went out with him today and let him say his piece and told him I forgave him that would be the end of it. It wasn’t. He wanted more; expected more.”

Jon was back to being angry. His hands were fisted at his sides. “I’ll run him through. I’ll challenge him to a duel and I’ll—”

“You’ll do no such thing! Stop being a bloody fool. A duel for my honor while you simultaneously ruin it? A duel in which you could perish? Stop and think, Jon.”

Now he looked annoyed with her. “How did you leave it?” he demanded. 

“I told him to slither back under the rock from which he came.”

“Do you think he will?”

“No,” she said honestly. “I think he’ll lash out.”

“How?” 

She sighed. “I’m not sure.”

“Do you think he’ll come back here? Break in? Harm you? If you think that he will then I’m not leaving you, Sansa. I’ll stay here for as long as it takes for him to go back to Paris or wherever it is he hails from.”

“This is not your battle, Jon.”

“Anything or anyone that could do you harm is my battle too, Sansa! For God’s sake, do you have any idea how I—” He broke off and Sansa’s breath caught. What was he about to say? If it was what she thought it could be then she hoped he didn’t say it. It would change everything and she didn’t want that. He held up a hand and heaved a deep breath. “If you are in danger then I want to protect you. I have to. I cannot stand the idea of harm coming to you.”

“Says the man that waited for me in my home. Do you have any idea how this all would have blown up in my face if someone like Arya or Margaery had stopped by to visit and they'd seen you?

“I’m sorry—”

“All this because you were jealous of nothing.”

“Yes, damn it all! I see now that it was unfounded, but how do you expect me to react when I come over here and find out you’ve gone out with another man?”

“I expect you to trust me!” she shouted. 

He nodded and hung his head. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. 

“I think it best that you leave now.”

“No,” he said and looked up at her. “I was wrong in acting a jealous fool, but I won’t have you sending me away like I’m nothing more than an errant child.”

“I’m not going to fornicate with you—”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then what is it you wanted when you came over?”

He pointed to a leather bound book on the table near the fire. “That’s the book I write in. I brought it over to share with you if you wanted to read some. Also, my sister is now engaged. Lord Khal Drogo asked for her hand this afternoon and she accepted. I wished to share the good news with you because you are more to me than a romp in bed. You are my lover, yes, but you are also my friend and my confidante.”

Now she just felt awful. Tears stung her eyes and try as she might to stop them from coming they did anyway. Petyr had put her in a horrid mood and she’d taken it out on Jon. Granted, he did deserve some of her ire for being so thoughtless as to wait for her as he did, but most of her anger had to do with Petyr. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She put her hand over her mouth and that was all it took for Jon to gather her in his arms and hold her close, one hand at the back of her head. That broke her. She started to cry in earnest because of her earlier frustration with Petyr, because she didn’t like arguing with Jon, and because she felt terrible for how she’d treated Jon. He kept telling her that she meant more to him than a romp in bed, but she kept reducing their relationship to just that. She had no point of reference for an affair; she didn’t know how to conduct herself with it. Wasn’t it just supposed to be carnal? And now Jon was bringing her his writing to share and his news of his sister….

“We were both wrong,” Jon murmured. “Please don’t cry, sweetling.”

She indelicately wiped her nose on his coat and then pulled back to look up at him. He smiled gently at her and dug into his coat and produced a handkerchief, which he handed her. She took it gratefully. “Would you like some tea and perhaps something to eat?” she asked him as she wiped away her tears. 

“Yes, my love, I would like that.”

She ignored the ‘my love’ bit and nodded. “Sit, please, while I ask for tea and some food to be brought to us.”

He kissed the tip of her nose and went to the sofa and sat. After hurrying to the door and asking a passing maid to please alert the kitchen that she and Jon were in need of tea and some sandwiches, Sansa then hurried back to Jon. She curled up beside him on the sofa and he wrapped an arm about her and held her close while she rested her head on his chest. “Please,” she said. “Tell me about Dany.”


	21. Chapter 21

Sansa could feel Jon watching her as she perused his writing book. She darted a glance at him and sure enough, he was staring at her, looking worried. “You think them awful,” he said and attempted to take his book from her. 

Sansa moved the book away from him and looked at him. “Did I say they were awful?”

He frowned. “No, but I am aware of my own limitations. I like to write but I know I’m not any good at it.”

“Well, that is where you are wrong,” she said and placed the book back on her lap. He looked at her incredulously and Sansa sighed. “Well, see, I think you should focus on your strengths.”

He snatched the book from her. “See? You think my writing is terrible.”

“Sweetheart, no,” she murmured. _Sweetheart?_ Where had _that_ come from?

She ignored the look of wonder and hope on Jon’s face and flipped to a page where he’d started work on a story. “This here?” she said, pointing to it. “This is wonderful. And unfinished. I want to know what happens when Kit decided to join the… what was it called again?”

“The Night’s Watch.”

“Yes. That’s it. I want to know what happens to him. Does he break his vows? Does he somehow meet a woman and fall in love with her?”

“If he did, I bet she’d be a redhead,” he said with a grin. 

She flipped to another story. “And this one. I want to know what happens to Alayne when she jumps from the turret to escape her horrible husband. Does she survive? Is she caught? Or does she manage to escape him? You pulled me completely into both stories, Jon. You have a knack for storytelling.”

“Any my poetry?”

He was testing her. 

She looked at him. “Your poetry has heart. I can hear your voice as I read your verses. They just need some work is all. They are…a rough draft. Not the final piece.”

He sighed and rested his head back upon her sofa. “You’re right.”

“Do you feel better now?”

“You were much kinder than Arya was.”

“Oh, you mean I can do something that Arya cannot?” Sansa muttered and flipped to a page where he’d started a different story. She was about to comment on it when Jon pulled the book from her and shut it. He looked at her with brows furrowed, his mouth pulled down into a severe frown. 

“What do you mean by that?” he asked. 

“It’s nothing, don’t mind me,” she said with a wave of her hand. She reached for his book again, but he kept it out of reach. She pouted and he leaned in and kissed her quickly. She hoped that would be enough to distract him, and it seemed to have worked. He kept his forehead pressed to hers, and he was breathing heavier. It was nice to know he was as affected by their kisses as she was. He may not have kissed anyone but she and that whore, but he did it well. Too well. 

“Tell me what you mean,” he whispered. 

So, no, he hadn’t been distracted enough. She kissed him again. “Do you really want to talk right now?” she murmured. 

He pulled completely away leaving Sansa bereft for more of his kisses and touches. Plus, she hadn’t expected that at all. Didn’t he want more? Sure he’d said he’d come to share the news of his sister’s engagement and his writing, but they’d done both already. Didn’t he want more now? 

She looked at him in bewilderment and felt her confusion grow when he sat back and regarded her thoughtfully. Finally he said, “Yes.”

She blinked. That had not been what she’d expected at all and she felt a bit…out to sea. What was this about?

“What did you mean by that comment?” he prodded. 

“I—I just meant that Arya is – has always been – the favorite.”

Jon’s brows knit together. “How so?”

Sansa sighed. “She’s…spirited. She knows how to shoot a gun. She fences. She does all the unladylike things that I do not do. She has more in common with you and my father than I do.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You like to read—”

“Arya reads.”

“Rarely. You despise Society as I do.”

“But so does Arya. Plus, you’re closer in age. Jon, it’s fine. It’s not a contest. Arya has always been the outspoken one. The spirited one. The _hoyden_. But it just makes her more interesting I think. I’ve always been rather boring. The perfect little lady, chirping my courtesies and doing what was expected of me. Well, except for making my husband happy and having a child.”

“Do you realize how often you bring Harry into our conversations?”

She blinked at him. She hadn’t 

“Do you also realize that when you do it’s always to illustrate how you think you were the one that came up short in your marriage?”

She sighed. “I suppose I do…I’m sorry?”

“It’s not me you have to apologize to,” Jon murmured. He reached out a hand and caressed the side of her face. “I wish I could eradicate that man from your mind. He has no bearing on what happens here. Not between us.”

 _If only that were true_ , Sansa thought. He must have read something on her face for he lifted her chin with his finger, beckoning her to look at him. He cocked his head to the side in question. 

“Harry was my husband for five long years, Jon. I can’t help but have been affected by what happened in my marriage. It…changed me. In some ways for the better. For one, I’m no longer that stupid little girl with her head in the clouds dreaming of her prince.” She noticed Jon’s wince. “Do you fancy yourself my prince?” she asked. 

“I’d like to be.”

She smiled. “You are. In a way.”

“Is it because you think of me as temporary?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I suppose I don’t wish to pin all my hopes and dreams on a prince of my imaginings. That sort of thing doesn’t really exist. I learned many things while married to Harry and one of them, and possibly the most important, is that I cannot rely on others to make me happy. I made Harry my entire world and when he took his ‘love’ away it shattered me. I’ll not be shattered again.”

 _What about me?_ Jon thought. _Do you care if I’m shattered?_

Sansa moved closer to him and trailed her fingers along the side of his face. “That doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t enjoy our time together,” she told him. “Why do you look so sad, Jon? I’m not dismissing you or saying that you don’t matter to me. You do.”

He clenched his jaw tight to keep from asking her exactly what he meant to her. He wanted to know the depth and breadth of how much he mattered to her. He wanted to know when the walls she still had up would come down – if there was even a small chance that they would at all. 

He wanted to tell her he loved her and was thinking that he wanted to marry her. It was the only way to keep her and he desperately wanted to keep her. But he knew the second he told her what he felt and what he wanted, she would tell him to go and never return. 

_How do I make you love me?_ he wondered as he looked at her. 

“Jon? Are you all right?” she asked.

He nodded and forced himself to smile. “I am.”

She didn’t look very convinced. “Do you want to…go upstairs?”

He did, but he wasn’t going to. He wanted to disabuse Sansa of the notion that what he wanted from her was just sex. He wanted more; he wanted everything. And if he took her to bed now she would think that was in fact all he’d come here for. 

She wouldn’t allow him to court her and he was still unsure how his family would react if they knew his intentions. Dany didn’t seem to think it would go over well. 

Dany…

Dany, who was engaged and on cloud nine and was about to plan a wedding. 

Dany, who had fallen in love with a man. 

He’d asked Drogo his questions, and now Jon found he had a few for Dany as well. Sure she might catch on as to why he wanted to know, but he also knew that if he asked Dany to keep her mouth shut she’d do it. 

“No,” he said, “I have some things to take care of.”

Sansa looked startled. She also looked disappointed, she quickly covered it up with a smile though. “No doubt you have more celebrating to do with your family over the happy news.”

“My parents are planning on having a soiree to celebrate,” Jon said. “Will you come?”

“I’m not sure your family knows me well enough, Jon.”

“Then this will give them the chance. Say you’ll come. Please?”

She smiled and nodded. “Very well then.”

He leaned in and kissed her, knowing that would weaken his resolve about not staying. Spending the afternoon buried inside the woman he loved sounded like a slice of heaven but he did not want their time together to be about only that. He’d lose her completely if she thought he was just in this for the sex. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered hoarsely against her lips and then forced himself to get up and leave before she could entice him to stay.


	22. Chapter 22

“Where did you run off to?” Dany asked when Jon had returned home from Sansa’s. He took off his coat and top hat and hung them up on the rack next to the door and looked at her with bit of a sigh. 

Dany’s smile fell. “What happened? Where were you?”

“Do you think we could talk for a bit…alone? I mean, if your feet are on the ground now--”

He laughed when she hit him playfully on the arm. Her smile receded a bit as she looked up at him curiously. “Is it a woman?”

Jon nodded and darted a glance around to make sure no family member was lurking about. 

“Arya?” Dany asked. 

“No…”

She sighed and nodded. “It’s San—”

Jon moved quickly putting his hand over her mouth before she could even finish. Keeping his hand over her mouth he said, “I want this to be between us. You cannot tell anyone, Dany. If you can’t promise that then I won’t talk.”

She nodded and mumbled against his hand. He rolled his eyes and took his hand off her mouth. “Say again?”

“I won’t tell anyone, Jon. I promise.”

He grinned. “Library?”

“Sure.”

Five minutes later in the library, after Jon had made sure Aegon wasn’t hiding somewhere taking a nap or hiding out, Jon and Dany sat down together in the window seat and Jon began telling her about Sansa. 

“I’m in love with her,” he blurted out. 

Dany’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Jon.”

“Don’t say it like that, like you feel sorry for me.”

“Does she know?”

“No, and I don’t know how to tell her.”

Dany frowned. “Well, how would you tell her? Jon, do you even know her well enough to—”

“We started an affair, Dany, so I mean it when I say you can’t tell anyone what we’re talking about.”

Her eyes went wide again and she nodded. “Jon, this means that you – that you and she—?”

“Have been having…relations? Yes.”

Dany’s mouth fell open and it moved, but no sound came out. “Are you all right?” he asked her with a grin. 

“I am in shock,” she said slowly, “Tis true. I was certain that given enough time it would be Arya…”

Jon shook his head. “Everyone else was certain it would be her, but I knew for certain it would _not_ be. Arya is my friend and nothing more. After I met Sansa…” He heaved a sigh. “I think I started falling in love with her the moment I met her. She’s just so kind and smart and beautiful – I cherish every moment with her and don’t want it to end. I’m terrified that she’ll end this and send me away and I can’t even think about her taking another lover. I—”

“Jon, do you want to _marry_ her?”

He nodded. “Yes, I do. I wasn’t certain before that I even wanted to marry, but I want her as my wife, Dany. I can’t imagine my life without her in it. I don’t know what I’ll do if she won’t accept me—”

“Jon, slow down. You’re starting to sound like one of those poets you read all the time. First things first: why would she not accept you?”

Jon’s face scrunched up into one of anger. “She was married before as you know, and her husband was a philanderer, as you also know. He cheated on her all throughout their marriage and Sansa had been in love with him at the start of their marriage.”

Dany looked horrified. “Oh, that poor woman! I hadn’t realized she’d actually been in love with him.”

“He died in a duel from a cuckolded husband.”

“I know, Jon. Everyone knows.”

Jon scowled at her. “Yes, and they all judge her for it. She should not be shamed for her husband’s actions!”

“Jon, calm down,” Dany said gently and put her hand on his arm. 

Jon looked at her, pained. “His ghost haunts her, Dany. His ghost haunts me. She’s so afraid to let herself go with me. I can feel her holding back, and I know it’s because of him. She talks about it still, about what she endured. She does not wish to ever marry again because of him. How could I ever hope to win her heart if she is so afraid to open her heart again?”

Dany looked at him in wonder. “You really love her, Jon. I mean, you really _really_ love her.”

He nodded. “Yes, Dany, I do. She captured my heart completely but I’ve no idea how to capture hers.”

His sister frowned. “Are you sure you haven’t? Perhaps she is just as afraid to say it aloud as you are.”

“No,” he murmured. “I know she does not love me.” He thought back to their afternoon together, sitting together and talking about Dany’s upcoming nuptials and his writing. “I think she cares for me. But she does not love me. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

Jon nodded. “How do I make her love me? How did Drogo make you love him?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Jon, you can’t make Sansa fall in love with you. It’s not something you can make another person do. If the potential is there already for it to happen then it just happens. For Drogo and I it was just…it was a natural progression. We met at balls, he took me on carriage rides. We danced, we talked, and we flirted. We learned about one another and there was always just a…spark.”

Jon nodded thoughtfully. “Sansa and I have that spark.”

“Obviously,” Dany said dryly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be sharing her bed otherwise.”

“Do you think Mother and Father would be so terribly averse to my marrying Sansa? Should the day come that I ask and she accept me that is?”

Dany sighed. “I just do not know, Jon. They were all right with Aegon courting her so perhaps since you are the spare and not the heir if it turns out that she is barren, it won’t matter. However, I do think that Mother and Father just wanted Aegon to settle down and stop his endless carousing about. I think they were hoping that if he didn’t have children then you would of course do your duty and have them. However, if he never settles but you do and with a woman that could very well be barren.”

“Please stop saying that,” Jon whined. 

“Saying what?”

“That Sansa is barren. I do not care if she is or not.”

“You don’t, but Mother and Father might. If Aegon does not marry and produce heirs then it is up to you, Jon.”

“I won’t give up Sansa just because she might not be able to have children. I love her, Dany, and I won’t give her up. Not even for my duty to the family.”

Dany stared at him with something akin to awe. “Jon,” she whispered. “You really do love her.”

“With all my heart and soul. With every fiber of my being, Dany.”

Dany shook her head, a soft smile on her face. “My goodness, Jon. You are your grand declarations. Perhaps when the day comes that you do confess to Sansa how you feel you tone it down just a bit? Unless of course you are certain your feelings are reciprocated.”

Jon nodded, looking a bit resigned. “It feels like this living breathing thing inside me. I’m not sure how much longer I can contain it.”

“Well, first things first. You must spend some time wooing your Lady Arryn. I’m not experienced in the way of bedsport—”

“As well you should not be.”

Dany shot him a withering look. “But I would imagine that you do not want to treat her as you would a mistress. You want to treat her as you would a wife. While Drogo was courting me he would bring me gifts – thoughtful gifts that let me know he listened when I spoke. He supported my interests and he showed that when he would buy me a gift that meant something, not just a bauble or flowers. Those are overdone by the dandies in this city. You are a writer, Jon, and she enjoys reading so perhaps you could write her notes. Have them delivered discreetly of course, but find ways to show her you are thinking of her.”

Jon beamed at his sister. “That is a brilliant idea, Dany!”

Dany grinned at him. “You should perhaps listen to me more often then.”

“I told her that you would invite her to the soiree in celebration of your engagement. You do not mind do you?”

Dany smiled at her brother. “Not at all, Jon. If it will help you acquire the woman you have fallen in love with then I will do what I can to help. I had my reservations about her I will admit, but she must be quite wonderful if you have fallen for her.”

Jon nodded, smiling. “She is. She is everything.”

“Oh my Jon, I am not sure I will ever get used to seeing you so besotted.” She clapped her hands together. “Well then, we’ll have to make sure that you will have a chance to dance with your Sansa at the soiree, and I shall endeavor to make sure you are seated near one another.” She grinned mischievously. “And, if an opportunity arises in which you may have opportunity to seek some time alone with her then you should take it.”

“Aren’t you the devious one?”

Dany grinned. “I can be. Now, when do you plan to see her again?”

“When is the soiree?”

“Not until next week.”

“I can’t wait that long to see her! I left her today without…uh, well—”

“Yes, I think I can piece that together,” she said primly. 

Jon reddened and cleared his throat. “In any case, I didn’t realize it would take that long to plan the soiree…I left with the intention that I would see her then, but if it is not until next week…” He sighed. “That is perhaps why she looked a bit forlorn when I left.”

Dany cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. “I bet she wondered why you didn’t want to…uh, well…”

“Yes I got it.” He frowned. “I do not want her to go on thinking I might not want her. Should I go to her at once?”

“No. Not quite yet. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll send a note, a thoughtful one.”

“And then?”

“And then you’ll wait and see if she extends an invitation.”

“If she does not?”

Dany smirked. “She will.”

Jon hoped she was right.


	23. Chapter 23

_Dearest Sansa,_

_We have our book club meeting in a few days. What did you think of ‘The Castle of Otranto’? I found myself rolling my eyes a few times. I imagined you reading it under the covers with the covers up to your chin and jumping at every creak the house made._

_I’ve been going over the stories I started but never finished that we talked about yesterday. I think I am going to attempt to write more of some of them. You will of course be required to read them and be as kind as you were when you read them the first time._

_Thinking of you as always,_

_Jon_

Sansa smiled to herself as she read his delivered note. She loved that he thought of her and that he was inclined to share when he did. It made her feel…cared for. Dare she think it – loved even? 

Her smile wilted. Love. What did she know of love other than it brought pain and misery? She could not argue that Jon made her feel good. He’d awakened this passionate wanton woman inside her that she supposed she should feel ashamed of, but didn’t. In fact, he made her feel bolder. Stronger. He didn’t talk down to her; he treated her as an equal. 

Just talking with him yesterday about his writing and his sister had been wonderful. She felt no pressure from him; didn’t feel she had to be anything other than who she was. So many times in Paris she had felt as though she had to play a part. Put on a happy face even though inside she felt as though she was falling to pieces. She always had to be so strong so as to not let anyone see how Harry’s infidelities and his ignoring her affected her. If she showed Harry her unhappiness he would throw in her face that he bought her pretty little baubles and dresses and everything else she wanted so what right did she have to be so unhappy? She could never imagine Jon treating her thus.

“My Lady? You have a visitor.”

Sansa looked up at her butler and wondered with a smile if it was Jon. She put his note down under a book on her end table. “Oh? Who is it?”

“Lord Petyr Baelish.”

Sansa’s smile fell completely. He’d dared to –oh, who was she kidding? Of course he dared. He’d dared to attempt seducing her in Paris and now he dared to darken her doorstep after she had thought she made it clear she did not want to have anything to do with him. He was a snake all right. 

“You did not let him in the house, did you?” she asked. 

“No, my Lady.” He looked affronted that she’d even suggest he would have after she’d told him that Lord Petyr Baelish was not to get past the threshold. 

“Thank you. Please send him away. He is not welcome here and you can let him know that.”

“As you wish, my Lady.”

Sansa got up and went to the door of the drawing room and listened as her butler very matter-of-factly let Petyr know he was not welcome inside as per his mistress’s wishes. 

“You can tell that little bitch she’s made a big mistake in denying me,” she heard Petyr hiss. “No doubt she’s listening behind a closed door somewhere.”

Sansa shrank back further behind the door. 

“You’ll regret this, Sansa! You don’t want to make an enemy of me!”

“That is quite enough,” Sansa heard her butler say and then the door shut. She would have laughed if she wasn’t trembling in fear. What could Petyr do? What could he possibly do? All this because she wouldn’t have sex with him? 

She moved away from the door, her skin crawling. She rubbed her arms when her butler came in to tell her he’d sent Petyr on his way. “I heard,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

“Are you well, my Lady? Is there anything I can get you?”

She smiled at the man and shook her head. “No, Reynolds, thank you I am fine.”

He nodded, bowed, and departed. 

Sansa wrung her hands together as she considered what she could do about Petyr. Seeing him was not an option and if she was honest with herself, being here alone in the house with an angry Petyr out there made her rather uneasy. He was the sort of man that presented himself as perfectly contained – kind even – but when his temper was struck he was downright scary. She had seen him lose his temper a couple times in Paris and it had been quite unsettling. He snapped so quickly that it left one feeling shell shocked. 

She supposed she could go to her parents for the night, though she didn’t want to have to tell them why. Nor did she exactly relish the idea of being pushed from her own home out of fear of what one scorned man might do. She could…well, she could invite Jon over to stay with her for a while. A part of her balked at that as well. Not that she wouldn’t love to see Jon, she would, but she didn’t want to rely on a man, or anyone really, to take care of her. She was a strong, capable woman and didn’t need to be coddled. 

Resolved, Sansa strode from the room and went up to her bedchamber to write out discussion questions for tomorrow’s book club. 

xxxxxxx

Jon was ready to tear his hair out. He paced in the library and glanced at the clock again. Seven. It was seven. They’d all had dinner together already and it was _seven in the evening_ and _Sansa had not written him back._

The door opened and Dany entered. She stopped short when she saw him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You said she’d invite me over if I wrote her this morning. I wrote her this morning, Dany. And she hasn’t written back!” 

Dany closed the door behind her with a loud thud and pressed her back against it. “You need to calm down, Jon.”

“What if she thinks I don’t want her anymore?” he asked desperately. “I should have stayed yesterday. I shouldn’t have left and—”

“Stop, Jon, honestly!” Dany moved closer to him and grabbed his arm gently. She pulled him to the settee and the pair sat down together. “You’re worse than a twittering maid at a ball!”

He scowled at her and jutted his finger out at her. “ _You_ said she’d invite me over if I sent a note over. I did my part. She hasn’t done hers.”

“Obviously I do not control the actions of Lady Arryn,” Dany said with a roll of her eyes. “You do not know if she had visitors or perhaps she’d gone to visit friends or family. You must learn to be a bit more patient, Jon.”

He sighed. “Yes, I know you’re right.” He faced forward, setting his elbows on his knees and bending forward slightly. “I just fear that the more time apart we have the more she’ll come up with reasons not to be with me.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know.”

“I fear that may be the case for me, but maybe not for her,” he murmured. 

“I wish you were not so uncertain of Lady Arryn’s feelings,” Dany said with a sigh. “Is she changeable?”

“No, it’s not that. Sansa isn’t fickle in anyway. Quite the opposite.” He smiled. “She’s also rather stubborn which sometimes I love and sometimes I loathe.” Dany smiled. “It’s just that she is so afraid to let go with me because she’s been so hurt. I don’t think she trusts herself to make the right decision.”

“But you would be the best decision as far as I’m concerned!”

Jon smiled at his sister. “Thank you.”

“You have book club tomorrow, do you not?”

“We do,” he murmured. 

“Do not say anything about the note. Act normal. Don’t put any pressure on her, and don’t let on that you were fishing for an invite by sending that note. She won’t appreciate being manipulated – no one does. Let her take the lead, Jon, all right? Can you do that?”

“You don’t have to speak to me as though I’m a child,” he grumbled. 

“When it comes to love and relationships, Jon, you are.”

xxxxxxxxx

When Jon showed up at the Starks for the book club the next afternoon, Arya was the one to greet him upon entering. He forced himself not to see if Sansa was nearby but she was no doubt in the drawing room preparing for their discussion. 

“How are you, Jon?” Arya asked as she stood before him looking…demure. Very much not like the Arya he knew. 

He smiled, wondering what she was about. “I’m well. And you?”

“I am well, thank you.”

She led the way into the drawing room where Sansa was sitting with Gilly in the circle of chairs near the fireplace. When she looked up to see who had arrived, she excused herself from Gilly and came over to greet him. 

“Hello, Jon, how are you?” she asked. 

Jon forced himself not to give away his concern. Sansa looked tired and pale. She had dark circles under her eyes and her smile was not so vibrant. “I am well, Lady Arryn. Might I ask how you fare this fine day?”

“I am well, thank you. I came up with a list of discussion questions for today.”

“So did I,” he said with a smile. 

“Perhaps we could go over our questions to make sure there are no repeats?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as eager as he felt. 

“Sam has arrived. I’ll see him in,” Arya murmured and Jon was ashamed to admit that he’d forgotten she had been standing there watching he and Sansa interact the whole time. He would have to make sure he spent some time with Arya to make up for how he’d been neglecting her. 

Sansa grabbed some papers off the refreshment table, presumably the questions she’d prepared and headed for the desk in the corner of the room far from the other guests. 

She placed her papers down upon the desk and held out her hand to him. He looked at her in question. “The questions you prepared?” she prompted him. 

“Oh, right, yes,” he said and pulled them from his copy of the book and handed them to her. He watched her as she bent over the papers – hers and his laying side by side. He wanted to lean over and press his lips to the back of her neck. He wanted to nibble on her bare earlobe. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and inhale her scent. 

“So far it is apparent we thought alike,” she said, pulling him from his lecherous thoughts. 

“Sansa, what is wrong? Are you ill?” he asked softly. 

She straightened and looked at him. “No, I… I just did not sleep well last night.” 

If they were alone, or if she was his and he had the right to touch her, he would put his hand on her back. “Why?” he asked. “Is something troubling you?”

She frowned and stared down at the papers, but he could tell she wasn’t actually reading them. She was thinking. “Petyr visited me yesterday,” she said quietly. “I refused to let him in the house and I could hear him when Reynolds told him to go. He said I would regret turning him away. He was angry and it just…it scared me a little.”

“Why didn’t you send for me?” he asked. “I could have come to be with you.”

“And do what?” she asked and looked at him. “Spend the night? You know that can’t happen.”

“It could have. I would have found a way,” he murmured. “Why did you not come here and stay with your family at least?”

“Because I refuse to let that man drive me from my home and cause me to live in fear of what he might do,” she said fiercely. He could hear the iron in her voice and see the fire in her eyes when she looked at him. 

“That’s the real reason you did not send for me,” he said. “You wanted to prove how brave you are.” She didn’t deny it. “Sansa, you’ve nothing to prove. I certainly know how brave you are.”

“It wasn’t for you that I didn’t leave,” she said. “It was for me. I went from my family home to Harry’s to living with his parents while in mourning. I’ve not known what it’s like to be on my own and to be independent. That is the curse of a woman in this world. Rarely do you find an independent woman. I was lucky in that I could acquire that and I find I wish to fight for that. Especially against men like Petyr who think they can bully me because they wish to own me.”

Jon didn’t begrudge her the independence she sought, yet he wondered just exactly how he fit into all of that. Was it perhaps selfish of him to be looking for his place in her life as a permanent fixture while she was looking to establish her independence? 

_But I love her_ , he thought. _Surely that counts for something?_

She looked up at him and smiled. Her hand lifted as though she was about to touch him and then she dropped it by her side and glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was looking. “I would not be opposed to your company this evening if you are up for it,” she said. 

“Yes,” he whispered, and he feared he sounded as desperate and as eager as he felt. “If we were alone I’d have you right now on that desk,” he rasped. 

Her eyes went wide. “How perfectly scandalous.” She was smiling and actually looked intrigued. That was proved when she said, “I do have a desk in my bedchamber. Perhaps you would like to take me there?”

“God, I’m hardening at just the thought,” he groaned. 

“Sansa, Jon, are you two quite done?” Arya called out. “We have a new member, too. Sam brought him. Mr. Gendry Waters.”


	24. Chapter 24

Jon took the stairs two at a time when Sansa’s maid let him in later that evening. He had the cundum in his pocket all ready to go, and he was already halfway hard just thinking about what was awaiting him in Sansa’s bedchamber. 

It was all he’d been able to think about during the book club meeting. He’d had a difficult time focusing on the discussions going on around him. His thoughts had drifted to making love to Sansa tonight, to what it would be like if she was his wife. To fall asleep with her and to wake up with her. To spend their days together. To read together in front of a roaring fire in her study. 

Sam had had to call his name more than once to get his attention when he wanted to ask Jon his opinion on something in the book. Jon had reddened, feeling as though everyone in that room could tell exactly what he’d been thinking. Sansa had looked at him with an arched brow, and Jon couldn’t look at her for fear he’d give himself away entirely. 

Now, after waiting hours to escape, having told his parents he was going out with some friends – a rarity for him, but Dany had covered for him – Jon felt ready to burst out of his skin. He wondered if it would always be like this. If he would always need Sansa this badly. He felt he just might die if he didn’t touch her in the next few minutes. 

“Sansa,” he panted as he rapped on her door. 

“Come in, Jon,” he heard her call from inside. 

He heaved a deep sigh, telling himself to slow down. To not act like some green boy. He pushed the door opened and closed it behind him before walking further into her room. He froze when his eyes landed on Sansa, and he went from half-hard to completely hard. 

She was perched on her desk, leaning back on her hands. Her legs were spread and she wore nothing but a white chemise that he could easily see through. Her hair was loose and cascaded down around her in a cascade of fire. 

“Bloody hell,” he whispered. 

She smiled. “Good evening, Jon. I trust you are well.”

Jon practically tore at his jacket to get it off. He dropped it to the floor followed by his cravat, his waistcoat, and then his shirt. He kicked off his shoes and stalked over to her with intent, his eyes never leaving her. Her mouth was curved into a seductive smile that told Jon she knew exactly what the sight of her in nothing but her chemise with her pretty pink cunt on display had done to him. 

“Your valet is going to be very cross with you for that mess you just made with your clothes,” Sansa said with a laugh. 

“I do not care,” Jon muttered and finally, _finally_ reached her. The palms of his hands ached to touch her except he didn’t know where to start. 

Sansa seemed to read his mind. “How about we start with a kiss?”

He bent and captured her lips in a searing kiss. _I love you_ , he thought. As he continued to kiss her, he felt her work the button on his breeches. She slipped a hand inside, past his drawers, and right onto his cock. He groaned and pressed himself against her hand. “Sansa,” he gasped. “I need you.”

“Then take me,” she whispered. 

He nearly shredded his breeches and drawers in his haste to get them off. He pulled her closer so that her bum was against the edge of the desk. He dropped to his knees, pushed her shift up, and spread her legs. She gasped and twitched at the first lick of his tongue. 

He licked, nibbled, sucked, and teased while she carded her fingers in his curls and held him to her. She cried out, wetting his chin and Jon continued to feast until she pushed him away. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and then stood, stroking his cock. He leaned down and kissed her fervently while pulling her legs over his hips. 

He teased her with his cock, rubbing it against her cunt. He was about to push inside, when she lurched forward and put a hand against his hip. “The cundum!”

In another circumstance he might have laughed at the way she’d said that so urgently, but he was feeling pretty urgent himself at the moment, and so he swore under his breath and went for his jacket. His hands were shaking and he felt as though there suddenly yards and yards of cloth in the way of grabbing what he needed. He swore up a blue streak under his breath until he finally managed to get the cundum in his hand. He sheathed himself quickly and went back to her, thinking that if they were married they’d not need this barrier between them. 

“Take me, Jon,” Sansa whispered just before he plunged inside of her. Her head fell back and Jon bent over her, suckling a breast through her chemise. 

He was already so close, so desperate in his want of her, that he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold off. He was determined she reached her peak before him again so strummed the nub that brought her so much pleasure with his thumb as he suckled her other breast in his mouth. 

“Jon,” she gasped and tugged lightly on his hair. He lifted his head, and she framed his face with her hands and drew him down for a kiss. 

He wasn’t sure if it was that he’d felt as though he’d gone so long without her, or if it was the fact that he knew he wanted the rest of his life with her and was afraid she wouldn’t grant him that, but Jon felt completely overcome. Being inside her, her scent surrounding him, the taste of her in his mouth, the sound of his name on her lips – he was overwhelmed with emotion. 

And then she came and he was struck by the gloriousness of it. How she cried out, how she shattered so completely and trustingly in his arms. He let go, and when he did the words flew from his mouth which was pressed against the curve of her breast: “I love you, Sansa. I love you.”

But she didn’t hear him. Or at least she gave no indication that she did. 

She held onto him tightly and then by degrees her grip loosened. She stroked her hand through his hair and he shut his eyes tight. 

“Jon? Are you well?” 

He lifted his head and looked up at her. He nodded. 

Her brow furrowed and she ran her fingertips along the side of his face. “What is wrong, darling? An overload of pleasure?”

“You’ve no idea,” he muttered and kissed her hard, pushing her backwards onto the desk. 

She laughed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m going to guess that you missed me?” 

“Yes,” he whispered. He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her and stopped himself. Tears flooded his eyes and he buried his face in her neck.

“Jon? Tell me true – what is wrong?”

He shook his head, unable to form words. 

“Is it Arya and that new boy Mr. Gendry Waters?”

Jon lifted his head and looked down at her, puzzled. “Pardon?”

She looked at him searchingly. “Did you not notice? How there was some significant spark between them during the meeting?”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

She peered at him curiously. “I thought you might have been jealous. You were quiet during the meeting and seemed to be someplace else.”

He drew back and gathered her with him so that he was standing and she was sitting up. “Jealous? No, Sansa, I was not jealous – I didn’t even notice. I was – I was too busy thinking of you. Of tonight. Of how much I … of how much I just wanted to be alone with you.”

He wasn’t imagining the look of relief on her face. It was there, plain as day. And now it looked as though she was the one overcome with emotion. “I thought maybe you realized there were feelings…”

“No, _God no_ ,” he whispered urgently. He pressed his forehead against hers. To tell her or not to tell her? “Sansa, you…you have no idea how much I care for you. How I long to be with you every second of every day. How I miss you when I’m not by your side. How I dream of you. How I…yearn for you.”

“My goodness, you are a writer aren’t you?” she said with a nervous laugh. “I definitely think if you channel that energy and passion into your writing you will make a fine writer one day, Jon.”

“I’d rather channel that energy and passion into you,” he murmured. “Sansa…I – I can’t…”

She reared back and looked at him. “Can’t what?”

He looked at her sadly. “I can’t keep it inside anymore. I love you, Sansa. I _love_ you.”


	25. Chapter 25

When Sansa didn’t respond right away to his confession, Jon felt as though he had to fill up the space, make up for the quiet that descended. It was too quiet. The kind of quiet that was deafening. 

“I can’t say when it started, I think it was the night I first met you,” he rambled on. “You were just so beautiful and regal. You still are, of course. Beautiful and regal, that is. You’re so much a lady, and worldly—”

“I’m not worldly,” she whispered. 

“I think you are. You’re intelligent and brave—”

“I’m not very brave either.”

“Sansa, you _are_. You survived your marriage with that philanderer—”

“I did my duty. That’s not bravery.” She pushed him away from her and slid off the table. 

Jon watched her pick up her wrapper from the bed and slip it on. “Sansa, talk to me. What are you thinking?”

“I knew there was the possibility you’d attach yourself to me,” she began. “That’s part of the reason I didn’t think this affair would be a good idea. You’re young and untrained. Plus, a romantic at heart.”

He gripped her arm and turned her to face him. “Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t pretend that there isn’t something more than sex between us. I _know_ there is. I feel it every time we make love. I feel it when we kiss. There is more than sex between us, Sansa, and you damn well know it.”

“If you think it then it must be true?” she asked with a quirked brow. She looked down the length of him and he felt ashamed at what she probably saw: him, standing there naked and vulnerable in more ways than one with a fucking soiled cundum hanging off his cock. Was there anything more that could scream “Green Boy” to her than this?

Her gaze was fixed on his cock and he looked down and saw it. 

A tear in the cundum, right at the tip. 

“I suppose it’s a good thing I’m barren,” she said, but her voice wobbled, betraying the fear in her face. She’d paled considerably, too. 

“You don’t know that you are,” he said softly. 

She looked up at him. “I never conceived with Harry.”

“Maybe he just wasn’t the right man for you to conceive with.”

Her jaw clenched. “Are you going to tell me that it was divine intervention or some such rot, Jon?”

“Maybe.”

“Doubtful.”

“I want you to marry me,” he said softly. 

“Because of a torn cundum? I don’t think so, Jon.”

“No, not because of that, yet if you did end up with child then you would have to – but because I love you, Sansa.”

“You love me so I have to marry you?” she asked with a snide laugh Jon didn’t care for. 

“You marry me because you love me too,” he said calmly. He was trying so desperately hard not to feel this pain he was feeling. She was rejecting him. He knew it. He felt it. She didn’t want his love. And it bloody well hurt. 

“I don’t love you, Jon,” she said softly. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. I do care for you, and I have enjoyed our time together, but I do not love you.”

She may as well have hit him. Or ripped his heart out with her bare hands. He felt like he couldn’t breathe for the pain in his chest. And he was afraid that he was going to cry and make an even further fool of himself. 

He yanked the cundum off and threw it on the floor with a resounding splat. With tears blurring his eyes, he hurried around the room picking up his clothes and hastily putting them on. He heard her somewhere in the distance saying his name, but he had to get out of there. He couldn’t breathe. 

With his cravat crumpled in his hand and his suit jacket over his arm, he all but ran from the room and down the stairs. 

“Jon, wait!” Sansa called after him. 

He stopped at the front door and turned to face her. He noted that she did look rather wretched. She wasn’t crying like he was, but she looked well on her way. Good. He hoped she sobbed her bloody heart out when she realized what she’d done. 

How she’d lost him. 

“You’re right, you know,” he said hoarsely. “You’re not brave. You’re a bloody coward.”

And then he left, not caring that it was drizzling and that he would return home a sodden mess. 

He wanted to die. Nothing mattered now. 

xxxxxxxxx

Sansa sank down to the floor after Jon shut the door behind him and let the tears come. She buried her face in her hands and let out a cry that came from her toes. She hadn’t felt this gutted in a very long time, and what was worse was that she was the one that had been the cause of it. 

She was a coward; Jon was right about that. When he’d told her he loved her she had felt the walls closing in on her. Love her? He was in love with her? How? She wasn’t lovable. Nothing about her was. She’d failed to make Harry love her, so how could Jon?

How could anyone?

And then with the torn cundum…God, she had actually thought, had even felt a sliver of hope, that maybe she could get pregnant with Jon’s child. And that scared her. So did his talk of marriage. Marriage had trapped her once, she wouldn’t ever let herself be trapped again. 

What Jon felt was not real. How could it be? He was young and inexperienced. She was the first woman he’d been with sexually and romantically, and so it made sense that he would believe himself in love with her. He was such a romantic – a poet at heart. But it wasn’t real. She was naught but a brief stop on his way to settling down with someone closer to his own age. Some young thing that was probably not barren and would bear him all the children he wanted. They would be so shiny and sweet together it would make Sansa’s teeth ache. 

No doubt she’d die a bitter old hag, hating the world and denouncing love until the grave. 

Well, that was better than risking her heart being ripped out again wasn’t it?

No, she’d done Jon a favor. And her too. She’d protected her heart, and she’d protected him from the fact that inevitably she would let him down. It was better this way. She kept him from tying himself to someone he would one day want no part of. Who he would one day wish he’d never declared himself to, but was now stuck with. 

She wiped at her tears and told herself to stop it. To stop being weak. To stop crying. She would be fine. She’d landed on her feet once, she would do it again. She would endure. 

Alone. 

Fresh tears came and broke through, and it was a long while before they stopped.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: attempted rape (not graphic) and assault.

Dany came flying out of the drawing room the minute Jon stepped inside the house, already dressed for bed in a nightrail and wrapper. He was soaked through from the rain, not to mention cold, but he simply did not care. He hoped he became ill enough to die. He felt as though he was dying already. 

Dany took one look at him and her eyes went as wide as saucers. “Jon…what happened?”

“She doesn’t love me,” Jon croaked. “I told her I loved her and wanted to marry her, and she told me she doesn’t love me.” He didn’t think it was possible for there to be any more tears left in him, and yet there he was, crying again. 

Dany rushed to hug him and then recoiled from how wet he was. “Jon, you need to change. You’ll catch your death.”

“Good. I want to die. Without Sansa I have nothing.”

“Oh goodness, Jon, that’s not true.”

“It is! She is the sun and moon and stars. She is the very air I breathe and without her love I shall waste away.”

“I did not think it possible that you could get even more melodramatic, but you’ve proven me wrong.”

Jon scowled at her. “You don’t understand.”

“No, I do understand. I would feel the same if Drogo did not return my love, but wallowing isn’t going to get you anywhere. Standing here soaking wet and wishing for death isn’t going to return her to you. And if she heard you speak this way she would most likely wish for her own death, or to rush you to yours so she wouldn’t have to hear it anymore.”

“I’m not allowed to be upset that the woman I am desperately in love with doesn’t love me back?!”

“You are allowed, but this melodramatic display isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“Where is there to _get_ , Dany? She doesn’t love me!”

“She lied.”

“How do you know?” Jon demanded. 

Dany smiled gently and brushed a curl from his forehead. “Because, dear brother, what woman in their right mind couldn’t fall in love with you?”

Jon’s smile was weak and thankful. 

She pushed him toward the stairs. “Go. Get changed. Meet me down here and we’ll strategize.”

Jon sighed. “You really think there’s hope?”

“I do. Lady Arryn is just scared, Jon.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I imagine if I had experienced what she did in her first marriage, I would be afraid too. Plus, she has her independence now and for a woman in this world, that is a hard-won thing.”

“Do you fear you’ll not have any independence when you marry?”

Dany smiled and shook her head. “No. I love Drogo and he loves me. The last thing he’d do is clip my wings.”

“I don’t want to clip Sansa’s either. I would never stop her from doing what she wanted. I would not treat her terribly the way her husband did. I would worship the ground she walked on and—”

Dany clamped a hand over his mouth. “Stop. Breathe. Go change. Meet me in the drawing room. Yes?”

Jon nodded and shuffled off. 

xxxxxxxx

Sansa couldn’t sleep. She was sitting up in her bed feeling gutted and wretched, and all the things one would feel after breaking the heart of a wonderful man and, if she was honest with herself, her own heart. 

Each time she thought of never seeing Jon again she was filled with dread. Never see him? Never touch him? Never have that sweet smile of his turned her way? And then, one day, if he were to marry some young girl with nothing but air in her head, how would she bear it? 

Her gaze strayed to the spot where Jon had dropped his cundum. She had since disposed of it and cleaned that spot, but now she thought of it again when she thought of Jon having children with someone else. Not that she would have been able to give him that. 

That, above all, was something she had probably saved him from. Jon would make such a wonderful father. He was so patient and kind and so very smart. She could picture him with a brood of children surrounding him and the joy he would take in teaching them things. 

It was something she couldn’t give him, and it was something he would no doubt one day want. No, it was better this way, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling sorry for herself. 

“It’s the hour,” she told herself. “It’s late and one’s thoughts have a tendency to turn maudlin at this time.”

She got up, having decided that what she needed was a drink, or a couple of them, to help her get to sleep. So, she donned her wrapper, grabbed the candelabra on her nightstand, and made her way out of her bedroom and then down to her drawing room. A finger or two of brandy would do the trick just fine. If she needed or wanted more then, well, who was to stop her? She was an independent woman and didn’t have to answer to anyone after all. No one was there to stop her. No one to tell her she couldn’t have it or shouldn’t. No one to find other ways to tucker her out…not anymore. She’d driven them away after all. 

Tears clouded her eyes, but Sansa refused to give into them again. 

She set her candelabra down on a nearby table and had just poured herself a finger of brandy when she heard movement in the room. 

She froze. “Who’s there?”

Silence. 

“Jon?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

“Is that the little pup I saw leaving earlier?” 

Sansa’s blood went cold and she froze. “Petyr?” She whirled around. “Where are you? What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

She heard movement behind her and before she could turn again, Petyr’s arms came around her, pinning hers to her sides. “I let myself in, Sansa. You should really get on your staff about ensuring the windows are locked too. You never know who will just let themselves inside.”

“Especially snakes like you who just slither about,” she snarled. 

“Such fire in you, Sansa,” Petyr said in her ear, making Sansa recoil away from his touch. Then he licked the side of her face and she blanched. “I can’t wait to experience it in bed,” he whispered. 

“Never,” she hissed. And then she shouted, “Help! Help! Rey—”

Petyr clamped a hand over her mouth and then moved her with him to the door, causing her to nearly stumble. He locked the door, and Sansa used her now one free arm to attempt to unlock it. Petyr threw her to the floor, and Sansa scrambled back on her hands and bottom as Petyr loomed over her, stalking her. 

“I had to wait in the cold and the wet under some fucking tree for your lover to leave,” Petyr hissed at her. “Have you any idea how unhappy that made me, Sansa?”

“Help!” Sansa shouted again. “Please help me!”

“I’ll kill them all if they intervene with my plans,” Petyr told her. “I’m tired of waiting for you to come to your senses. I’m tired of waiting for you period, Sansa.”

“You’re sick. You’re utterly mad if you think I’ll share your bed.”

“I’m flexible. I’m perfectly willing to share yours.”

Sansa got to her feet quickly and ran from him, thinking she had to get to the door, but she couldn’t get to it with him practically guarding it. 

_I need to hit him with something,_ she thought frantically. 

“Lady Arryn! Lady Arryn!” 

Reynolds! He’d heard her! 

“There’s an intruder, Reynolds! He’s locked the door!” Sansa shouted just as Reynolds began pounding on the door. “Get the key, get help!” 

Petyr lunged for her and Sansa darted to the right, nearly tripping on the hem of her nightrail. Petyr grabbed her arm and Sansa screamed. She was near the bar and looked down. _The decanter of brandy._ She curled her fingers around the thick glass decanter just as Petyr yanked her closer. His eyes went wide when he saw what she held in her hand and before he could reach up and stop her, she brought the decanter down hard on his head. Twice. 

His grip went lax and he crumpled to the floor. Sansa stared down at him, the decanter still in her hand. There was blood on his temple. Then more blood. The door burst open and Sansa jumped as Reynolds, a couple of her footmen, and the housekeeper came rushing inside. 

Sansa started to cry. “I think I killed him.”

xxxxxxxxx

“Jon!”

Jon jerked awake at the sound of Dany calling his name and bolted up in bed in alarm. She looked frantic and Jon immediately thought something was wrong, that something had happened to her, their parents, or Aegon. “What is it?” he asked urgently. 

She flung the newspaper at him. “It’s Lady Arryn. There was an intruder in her home last night. She killed him.”

Jon grabbed the paper, fear settling over him. Had she been hurt? Where was she now? He read through the article quickly:

_Lady Arryn, wife of the late Lord Arryn, suffered and attack by an intruder in her home in the wee hours of the morning. The intruder, identified by Lady Arryn as Lord Petyr Baelish, who hails from London, but resides most of the time in Paris. Lord Petyr Baelish had snuck in through Lady Arryn’s drawing room window with ill intent. Lady Arryn struck him in the head with a brandy decanter. Lord Petyr Baelish was pronounced dead and Scotland Yard is claiming self-defense for Lady Arryn._

“I need to see her,” Jon said and climbed quickly out of bed. 

“Are you all right?” Dany asked him. 

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Jon said. “I need to dress. If you don’t mind, Dany?”

“Of course,” Dany said and turned to go. 

“Dany?”

“Yes?” she said and turned around. 

“Thank you for telling me about this.”

Her smile was sad. “You’re welcome. I just hope she is well.”

“Me too.”

Jon knew without a doubt she was with the rest of the Starks and so after he quickly dressed, he made his way there. He wondered how long it had been after he left that Baelish had broken in. If Sansa had been hurt. How she was feeling right now. She’d killed him. That had to do something to a person. 

He didn’t care about the rest, didn’t care that she didn’t love him back – so she said anyway. Dany had given quite a convincing argument that she _did_. All that mattered to Jon was making sure Sansa was all right, and that he was there for her if she needed him. 

When he arrived at the Starks and asked for Sansa, it was Arya that appeared instead, meeting him in the drawing room. She looked quite grave, which agitated Jon even more than he already was. “Where is she? Please, Arya, let me see her. I need to know she’s all right.”

“She’s as well as can be expected, Jon,” Arya said. “She isn’t seeing anyone but Mother and Father right now. She won’t even see me. I saw her briefly when Mother and Father received news that she needed them and had returned after fetching her. She looked shook up; she was crying. I can’t imagine how scary that was for her.”

Jon scrubbed a hand down his face. “I…I don’t want to pressure her to see me. Will you tell her I was here?”

“Of course.” Arya sighed. “You’re in love with her.”

Jon nodded. “I am. Very much.”

“Do you wish to marry her?”

“Yes.”

“Have you asked?”

“I’d prefer not to discuss that.”

Arya nodded. “For what it’s worth, I’m not upset anymore. About you and Sansa that is. You and she are better suited than you and I would ever be.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Arya. And I hope you know that whatever happens, you and I will always be friends.”

Arya nodded and smiled. “I know.”

Just then the butler entered the room and announced to Arya that Mr. Gendry Waters had just left flowers for her. 

Jon grinned. “Mr. Waters, eh? I’m glad. He seemed nice.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “How could you tell? You were in another world at the book club meeting. I don’t think you said more than a few sentences the whole time!”

Jon laughed. “Yes, well…”

“Don’t worry about Sansa,” Arya said and patted his arm. “She’ll be staying with us for a while now I think. I wish to pen Mr. Waters a note, and I will let Sansa know that you were here before I do. All right?”

“Thank you, Arya.”

“Any time, Jon.”


	27. Chapter 27

Sansa couldn’t stop reliving it. The whole thing. From when Petyr had attacked her to when she had grabbed that bloody decanter and hit him with it. 

She kept hearing the sound it made when it cracked against his skull. 

The groan he emitted when he was struck. 

And the thud of his body when he fell. 

The blood. So much blood. 

Everything after that had been a blur. Now, almost two weeks later she was still at home with her parents. She had no desire to return to her townhouse. She’d already put it up for sale. All she needed was a new place to go, but she was beginning to think that maybe she would just stay with her family. 

She was certainly finding it comforting having them around even if she didn’t leave her room much to visit with them. She spent a lot of time thinking, and not just about what had happened, but her life thus far. Her marriage to Harry, her return home …her affair with Jon. 

_Jon._ She missed him. Arya had told her he’d stopped by, but Sansa had yet to reach out to him. The last time she’d seen him she’d broken his heart. She knew these were special circumstances – she’d killed a man after all. A man who had attempted to violate her. Scotland Yard had been by a few times to follow up with her, her book club members had also stopped by (though she did not see them), and rumors were already flying about her and Petyr and what might have been between them in Paris. 

It was a wonder she didn’t feel the need to leave the sanctuary of her parents’ home. She missed the quiet of her townhouse at times, but she felt protected here from everything – even the rumors. 

_Oh, to be a little girl again_ , she thought forlornly one afternoon while she sat in the study with a book in her lap. She’d read all of two sentences so far. 

If she were a little girl again, she’d prefer knowing what she knew now. Then she’d never have wed Harry, never have left her family to move to Paris, and never would have been Petyr. 

But Jon… would she have given Jon up? 

Not for her, she decided, but for him. She’d brought him much more misery than joy. She was too…broken. And now she’d killed a man. She couldn’t seem to escape her life with Harry no matter how she tried. Whether in her thoughts, or in the form of Petyr, her past haunted her. 

“Sansa,” Arya said as she burst into her bedchamber. 

Sansa frowned at her sister. “You could’ve knocked—“

“Harry’s parents are here to see you.”

That, Sansa had not been expecting. She blinked at her sister. “Here? Robert and Anya are here?”

Arya looked a bit exasperated with her. “Yes!” she said urgently. “Mother is with them now.”

Sansa got up, forgetting that her book was in her lap. It fell to the floor and she bent to pick it up. She stood and smoothed her skirts. “All right then. I’m on my way.”

The only comfort Sansa had in her marriage to Harry had been his parents. They were always so kind to her, and like her own parents in their support of her. They knew what Harry was, and though he was their son and they loved him, they also knew how miserable it was for Sansa. 

They’d been a comfort to her after Harry had been killed, too. It was also their scandal to be borne, and they’d offered to let Sansa stay with them for however long she’d wanted. Sansa had been eager to get home though. She still wrote them, keeping them abreast of how she was faring, and they always replied to catch her up on their own lives. 

Now, to find out they were here, Sansa felt a bit distressed. No doubt they’d heard about Petyr. She felt the tears come even before she saw them, and when she entered the drawing room and clapped eyes on them, she couldn’t help but burst into tears. 

Both Robert and Anya hugged her tightly, wrapping her up in their arms as she sobbed. 

“My poor dear,” Anya murmured as she stroked Sansa’s hair. 

“We made plans to come as soon as we’d heard,” Robert said. 

The three parted and Sansa wiped at her eyes, and glanced over at her mother who got up and brought Sansa a handkerchief. “Thank you, Mother,” Sansa murmured. 

Robert and Anya took their seats near the fireplace where they’d been apparently been sitting before Sansa had arrived. Sansa sat down beside Catelyn and fiddled with the handkerchief in her hands. 

Robert and Anya studied her closely. It was something Sansa had gotten used to during her marriage. They were forever concerned about how she was faring. Robert’s piercing blue eyes swept over her and he smiled encouragingly, causing his eyes to crinkle and the wrinkles around his mouth to deepen. Anya, a bit more nervous than her husband, fidgeted with her hands. Her gray eyes were full of concern and her plump lips were pursed. 

“I never liked that man,” Anya finally said. Her slightly weathered face crinkled into disgust. “He was a scoundrel.”

Robert nodded in agreement. “He was a sodding jackass, pardon my language, Sansa and Lady Stark.”

Catelyn held up her hand. “No need to apologize, Lord Arryn.”

“Please, call me Robert,” he replied. 

“How are you feeling, dear?” Anya asked as she leaned over and patted Sansa’s hand. 

“As well as can be expected I suppose,” Sansa murmured and wiped at her eyes. She felt perhaps another onslaught of tears were on their way. “I’m so glad to see you both.”

Robert frowned slightly and Anya darted a glance at him, frowning as well. 

“What is it?” Sansa asked. 

“It’s just that we weren’t sure how it would be to see us again,” Anya said. “If it would be…difficult. Yet sending just a letter didn’t seem right. You were our family for five years, Sansa. Our daughter. We miss you greatly.” She broke into a smile. “You should see how we tear into your letters as soon as we receive them!”

Sansa smiled. “I do the same with yours. Please don’t ever think that I’d be unhappy to see you. You’ve done so much for me.”

“Not enough,” Robert muttered. “Not after what my son did to you.”

“You couldn’t control him, Robert. He was a grown man.”

“And a stupid one.”

“Robert,” Anya scolded. 

“I know, Anya, that he was our son,” Robert said. “I loved him, I did. But it doesn’t change the fact that he ruined lives doing what he did.”

“Robert and Anya had something they wished to ask you, Sansa,” Catelyn said. 

Robert and Anya nodded as they smiled at Sansa. 

“We want to get you out of London for a bit,” Robert said. “We thought you might like to join us for a trip to Bath.”

“We thought perhaps taking the waters might help ease some of the tension you must be feeling,” Anya said. 

Sansa smiled; she could not deny the idea sounded wonderful. But could she go? Would that be running away? 

“I think you should go,” Catelyn said, placing a hand on her arm to gain her daughter’s attention. “It would do you good to get away from here for a bit. Just at least until the circus dies down a bit.”

Sansa thought of Jon. Of how she should see him. She supposed though she could write him. Perhaps time to think in a different place, with different scenery would help her straighten everything out in her mind. “Yes,” she said. “I accept. I think it would do me a world of good.”

Robert slapped his knee and laughed and Anya reached out and gripped Sansa’s hand. “We’ll leave in two days’ time. Is that enough time do you think to prepare?”

Sansa nodded, already thinking of what she had to pack and the letter she had to write to Jon. “Yes. Plenty of time.”

xxxxxxxx

Jon ripped open the letter from Sansa with shaking hands. He’d been going out of his mind worried about her and God, he hoped this meant she was ready to see him. 

He was marginally aware of Dany watching him eagerly. He got up from his desk and moved away from her, needing at least the semblance of privacy as he read the letter. 

_Dear Jon,_

_I want to thank you for having stopped by to see me. Arya did tell me you had. I apologize for not seeing you. I haven’t seen anyone at all aside from my family. With all that happened and now the rumors that have followed, I have found I prefer to be alone to gather my thoughts._

_Harry’s parents have come from Paris to see me, and now they are whisking me off to Bath._

Jon at this point stopped reading. He shut his eyes and lowered the letter, needing a minute to absorb the fact that Sansa was leaving. 

“What is it?” Dany urged. 

Jon sighed. “Harry’s parents have come to take her to Bath.”

“For how long?” 

“I don’t know. I just needed a minute to take that in.” He could almost see Dany rolling her eyes behind him. 

“Read on then and find out for how long!” Dany exclaimed. 

Jon nodded and lifted the letter back up. 

_I won’t be gone but for a few weeks. I think it is much needed considering all that has transpired._

_Jon, I wish to express to you how very sorry I am for how I hurt you. When I think back on our last exchange, I cringe. What I said, and how I behaved – I was callous and cruel. And I am sorry. You are such a wonderful man, Jon. You deserve to be happy, and to be with a woman that can give you all that you want, need, and deserve._

_Sadly, I do not believe I am that woman. Perhaps I just haven’t quite healed from my marriage, or perhaps the fates just believe I am to be alone, but you deserve a woman who is not so broken._

_In that vein, I hand over the book club to you. I think for now I need to find my way again, and what that means I am not quite sure as of yet. I wish you luck and love, and all the happiness in the world._

_Sincerely,_

_Sansa_

Jon turned and thrust the letter at Dany for he couldn’t bear to repeat what he’d just read. He wrung his hands together, attempting to stop himself from breaking down. But then Dany finished reading the letter and said so sadly, “Oh, Jon,” and he broke down completely.


	28. Chapter 28

**Three Weeks Later in Bath**

A knock at her bedchamber door roused Sansa from her nap in the window seat. A nap she had not realized she was taking. She had begged off that night from attending the theater due to the fact that she had not been feeling well earlier that day. In fact, she’d noticed the past few days had been a bit trying. She hadn’t had the same energy and when she awoke in the morning, she had to rise slowly out of bed for she had begun to feel nauseous. 

She chalked it up to the fact that she, Robert, and Anya had been busy taking in the sights, visiting the healing waters, and partaking in the Bath nightlife. It was no doubt all catching up to her now, and a good thing since they were driving her back home the next day before returning home themselves. 

“Come in,” Sansa called out and then yawned loudly. She covered her mouth when she saw it was Anya. She curled her legs back so that Anya could sit down, and smiled at her former mother-in-law. 

“How are you feeling, dear?” Anya asked. 

Sansa held back another yawn. “I am well. How was the play?”

Anya smiled. “Excellent. I am only sorry that you were not with us. There was a young man I wanted to introduce you to.”

Sansa’s mind jumped to Jon. Her mind, if she was honest with herself, had not strayed very far from him since she’d left. She kept thinking of the letter she’d sent him before she’d left, and she worried that she’d hurt him again. 

And, also, she missed him. 

She had expected that she would, but she had not expected just how much. How it would keep her up at night wondering what he was doing, what he was thinking…if he had already moved on. 

Throughout the day she would see something or hear something interesting or amusing and think – Jon would enjoy that. Then she’d remember how she’d severed ties with him before she’d left and her heart would ache. 

“What is it?” Anya asked.

Sansa frowned slightly. “Pardon?”

“When I said there was a young man I wished to introduce you to, you got the saddest look on your face. Are you thinking of Harry?”

“No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t,” Sansa said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Anya narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “I do not believe you. Sansa, do you still grieve for my son?”

Sansa chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “That is a question I feel is dangerous to answer.”

“Please be honest.”

“Very well then. I don’t grieve Harry the way a wife who loved her husband should. I grieve more for things I didn’t get to say. For the life that I never got to have with him, and for the life that I felt I was robbed of. Sometimes I just want to yell at him, but then I remember that he’s not here. And then I’m angry with myself for letting what he’d done to me stay with me still.”

Anya reached into her reticule and handed over a handkerchief. Sansa wiped at the tears that dropped from her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Anya,” Sansa said. “He was your son. It can’t be easy to hear me talk about him thus.”

“I miss my son, I do. Mostly I miss him the way he was before he took that wrong turn. Before he took up with that woman. I often remember him as the little boy that was always clinging to my skirts.” Anya sighed then and seemed to be weighing her thoughts. “Sansa, my son did you a disservice. I can’t ignore or deny that your marriage was unhappy and that it was because of him that it was. I like to think I’m a practical woman and can see things as they are, not just how I wish them to be. He hurt you. Deeply. And you’ve carried it with you.” She looked down at her hands and twisted them in her lap. “Robert cheated on me once in the beginning of our marriage.”

Sansa’s eyes went wide. She had not expected that. “He did?”

Anya nodded. “Yes.”

“What did you do? Who was it?”

“Some trollop,” Anya said and waved her hand dismissively. “When I told him I knew and how it hurt me, he was horrified. He stopped immediately. And he never did it again.” She shook her head. “I wish my son had done the same.”

“Me too,” Sansa said softly. 

“You are still a young and vibrant woman,” Anya said looking at her with a certain kind of fierceness. “It would be a shame if you spent the rest of your days alone, having given up on love because my son was too much of an idiot to see what he had. I do not wish for you to carry his sins with you as though what he did was your fault. It wasn’t. None of it. I saw how you tried. I saw how you looked the other way time and again. I saw the pain he brought you. You’ve had too much of it, Sanaa. It’s time to put him and all of it in the past.”

The tears fell unchecked now. “I feel as though I’m broken,” Sansa cried. “That I could never make another happy.”

“Oh, my sweet dear, you would make some man very _very_ happy.”

“I’ve told myself that I’m better alone. That I’ve no use for love, and that I worked so hard for my independence that I should not give it up.”

“That is your fear talking. Your fear of being hurt. You learned a great lesson after my son, one you won’t make again.”

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked and wiped at her cheeks with the handkerchief. 

“I mean that you won’t choose the same sort of man again. You’ll choose someone you can trust. Someone who will love you and cherish you. Someone who will do all the things Harry should have done and didn’t. You’ve been through too much and learned too much to make the same mistake again. Believe that.”

Sansa thought of Jon. Did she trust him? No, but that wasn’t because of anything he’d done. That had been all her not trusting herself. Not trusting what she felt. Jon had been nothing but utterly devoted to her. He was too honest and pure for anything else. He’d cherished her. He’d loved her. 

But she’d no doubt crushed him now. She’d hurt him and taken away the purity of his first love and hurt him. Was he as jaded as she was now? As afraid to love again?

“There was a man I came to care for,” Sansa blurted out. “He was in my book club. He said he loved me. And I was callous with his feelings. I pushed him away because I was afraid…”

“Do you love him? This man?”

Sansa looked away. If she said it out loud it would be real. She would be vulnerable. 

_You already are_ , the little voice in her head said. _You can’t run from it for forever._

“Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

“Then what the devil are you doing here hiding away in Bath instead of being with him?”

Sansa erupted into laughter; she liked that feeling. Laughing through tears. 

“Good thing we’re returning tomorrow. You need to tell that man you love him.”

Sansa shook her head. “I can’t. I told him to move on without me before I left.”

“So? Do you think he’s moved on so soon?”

Sansa sighed. “I don’t know. He’s quite the romantic…I was his first love. He’s… younger than I am. Seven years younger.”

Anya grinned. “In that case, I am quite proud of you.”

Sansa laughed again, shocked now. “Anya!”

Anya laughed. “I am old but not dead, Sansa. And you my dear, are not old at all. It’s best to take a younger man as your husband. You can train him easier.”

Sansa could not stop laughing.

Anya patted her hands. “See now? Do you feel better?”

Sansa nodded. “I wish I had spoken to you sooner.”

Anya stood, leaned over and kissed the top of Sansa’s head. “Get some rest, my dear. And think about your young man and what you might say to him when you return home.”

Sansa nodded, sighed, and looked back out the window. What to say to Jon…that was indeed a good question. 

xxxxxxxxx

“I cannot believe I am going to say this but is there ever a time when you are not in your cups?” 

Jon looked hazily up at his sister from where he was sprawled out on the settee in the study and frowned. “Stop talkin’ so loud.”

“I’m not,” Dany said irritably. “Jon Targaryen, you are a mess. And you have been for the past three weeks. Out all night, sleep all day – has there been a day when you haven’t been hung over?”

He nodded. “Tuesday. Last week.”

“Precisely. Mother and Father are at their wits end with you, and so am I. My wedding is in three days and I would ask you to please sober up by then.”  
Now he felt bad. He grunted and winced as he proceeded to sit up. “I’m sorry, Dany.”

“Drinking yourself into a stupor is not going to help you get over Sansa.”

“Don’t say her name,” Jon murmured. “I can’t bear it.”

“You’ve got to push past this. You have to try. You can’t drink it away. You must feel it.”

“I feel it every goddamn day, Dany. Like someone’s reach into my chest and tore my heart from my chest. I feel dead inside. And I ache all over.”

“That’s probably the liquor.”

“No, it’s pain and heartbreak. It’s missing her so bloody much. I can’t get her out of my head. I can’t even see Arya…she is a reminder.”

“You need a bath, new clothes, food, and water. Also, more sleep. No more spirits for you. We need to push through this, and I’m going to help.”

Dany pulled on his arm and Jon got to his feet and wobbled a bit as the room spun. He then rushed over to his top hat that was strewn on the floor and threw up in it. 

Dany sighed and made the decision right then and there that she was going to pay a visit to the Starks and see if Lady Arryn was home yet. It was about time she and Sansa had a chat.


	29. Chapter 29

To say that Sansa was surprised to hear that Jon’s sister had come to call on her was an understatement. She had a good idea as to why Lady Daenerys had come to call too. No doubt she had discovered that she and Jon had been having an affair, or Jon had simply told her. Sansa suspected she was about to receive a dressing down for the affair. Sansa would bear it, even if she was exhausted from the trip home and feeling a bit unwell still. 

She did want to find out how Jon was faring and suspected Lady Daenerys would let her know. 

Having seen the other woman at balls, but only in passing, Sansa was struck by how lovely and delicate Jon’s sister was. Her white-blond hair and eyes so blue they appeared violet were quite striking. 

Sansa smiled as she shut the drawing-room door, but Lady Daenerys did not return her smile. All right, well then. This was going to be a little tough. 

“Lady Daenerys,” Sansa began. 

“Lady Arryn, I realize that it is a bit improper of me to call on you even though we have not been properly introduced,” Lady Daenerys said with her chin lifted almost haughtily. “However, since our families are close, I figured that would make the exception.”

Sansa nodded and folded her hands before her demurely. “I believe so, yes.”

“I’d like to talk to you about my brother.”

“I figured as much. How is he?”

“Not well, Lady Arryn, and I blame you.”

Sansa sighed. “When you say ‘not well’—”

“He’s been in his cups ever since he received that letter telling him you were going to Bath, and that you were setting him free.”

Sansa nodded once, curtly. “I see.”

“No, I don’t believe that you do. My brother is the sweetest, most honest, caring, romantic, and gentle man there is—”

“I do know that, actually.”

Lady Daenerys threw up her hands. “Then why have you hurt him so?”

“Because I’m stupid,” Sansa said simply. 

Lady Daenerys stared at her, her mouth moving but no sound coming out. Clearly, she had not been expecting Sansa to say that. 

“Without going into the details of my life before Jon, I will say that past experiences caused me to be wary of men and their intentions. It also taught me that independence is hard-won for a woman. Surely, you must know that.”

“I am marrying the man that I love.”

Sansa smiled. “I know. And it does sound like a wonderful match, based on what Jon told me about it. However, some are not as lucky as you, Lady Daenerys. I was one of those unlucky ones. That’s not to say that Jon should have had to suffer for it, but he did. And I am sorry about that.”

Lady Daenerys seemed to deflate before Sansa’s eyes. “What do you plan to do about it then? Anything?”

“I’ve no plan, not really. I am not sure how to…fix it, I suppose.”

“You tell him that you love him, that’s how,” Lady Daenerys said. “Lady Arryn—”

“Please call me Sansa, Lady Daenerys.”

Lady Daenerys smiled. “Please call me Dany then. Or Daenerys at least.”

Sansa smiled. “Tell me, Daenerys, how would you go about telling the man you love you made a mistake and you’re sorry?”

“By telling him just that. Are you joining your family for my wedding? I did invite the entire Stark clan and that includes you.”

“I hadn’t been planning on it considering…

“Well,” Daenerys said, “I think you should. Jon will, of course, be there and I think he needs to hear it. Especially on the most romantic of days. His poetic soul will soar.”

Sansa laughed. “I’ve no doubt.”

“You have two days to decide how to tell him. I will help the best I can.”

“You already have. Thank you.”

Daenerys nodded and smiled. “Good day, Sansa.”

Once Daenerys had left, Sansa rushed over to one of the empty vases on the baby grand and promptly retched into it. Mortified, she carried it outside to dump out the contents in the little patch of grass near the door and then brought it inside and apologized profusely when she handed it off to one of the servants to clean. 

She trudged up the stairs, holding her belly and came upon her mother in the hall. Catelyn frowned at her. “Sansa, are you ill?”

Sansa nodded. “Just. In one of your vases.”

“Is it the traveling, do you think?”

Sansa nodded. “I do think.”

“Rest, my dear, you’ll feel better by tomorrow no doubt.”

xxxxxxxxx

Except that, she did not feel better. Come the time for Daenerys’s wedding, Sansa still felt terrible. It came in waves it seemed. She would feel fine one minute, and then not the next. She felt terrible having to skip the wedding, but what could she do? She couldn’t very well toss up her accounts in the middle of the ceremony. So, Catelyn sent for a doctor to have her looked over while she stayed at home. 

And so, Sansa decided to write Jon a letter and send it along with Arya. She just hoped he read this one; she didn’t have a really good history with letters. 

xxxxxxxx

 

“I have a letter for you,” Arya said without preamble. “From Sansa.”

Jon grimaced as he looked up at his friend from the pew he was sitting in. He hadn’t been in his cups for all of a day, but his head hurt still. He looked over his shoulder at the guests gathering in the church. “She’s not coming?” he asked. 

He’d been both hoping she would and hoping she wouldn’t. He wanted to show her that he was just fine without her, even if he wasn’t sure how to achieve such a thing with a pounding headache. Plus, he wasn’t really all that good about putting on a show. He was an open book. What you saw with him was what you got. 

Sansa just didn’t want any of it. 

“She’s been sick since she returned from Bath. She can’t really seem to keep much down,” Arya said. 

Jon straightened. “Oh?”

Arya nodded and frowned. “The doctor is coming to see what could be wrong.”

Jon didn’t like the sound of that. 

Arya waved the white letter in her hand. “Read it, Jon. She was quite adamant that I give it to you.”

“Did she think I didn’t understand her rejection the first time?” he asked bitterly as he scowled at the letter. 

“Stop being an idiot and take it.”

Jon snatched it out of her hand with a glare and tucked it in his suit coat. Arya rolled her eyes. “Read the letter, Jon.”

Jon opened his mouth to reply when Drogo came over to let him know they were about to begin. Jon stood, winced, and nodded to Arya. “I’ll read it.”

xxxxxxxx

Sansa stared at the doctor in shock. “That’s impossible! I’m barren! I never conceived when I was married!”

The portly doctor shrugged as he packed up his bag. “Well, my dear, you are with child. I would say you’re not very far along, but you are pregnant nonetheless.”

He told her how to care for herself in her condition, and by the time he left, Sansa was reeling. 

Pregnant. She was _pregnant._

Jon had been right all along. She hadn’t conceived with Harry because Harry wasn’t the right man for her to conceive with. 

But oh, God…

She and Jon weren’t even married! She didn’t even know if he would forgive her and accept her declaration of love! 

She wondered if he’d read the letter yet. He must have by now…

What would he think of this turn of events? Would he be pleased? Or would he feel as though her declaration of love wasn’t real, and that she was just thinking that now they had no choice but to wed? Did he even want to wed her anymore? 

Daenerys had said he’d been miserable without her, but what if he decided that she was just too much to take on after all, and was better off without her even it did hurt now?

Sansa glanced at the clock. The wedding had to be over by now. She thought about taking a nap, but she knew that until she heard from Jon himself, or learned the result of the letter from Arya she would not be able to rest. 

Wringing her hands together, she sat back in her bed feeling as wound up as a coiled spring. 

xxxxxxxx

“Did you read it yet?” Dany asked at the wedding breakfast after the ceremony. Jon had managed to let her know that Arya had given him a letter after the wedding, and now she had a spare moment away from her guests to inquire about it. 

“I haven’t had an opportunity,” Jon murmured. “Too many people about.”

Dany snagged the sleeve of his jacket. “Come with me, brother. Let’s get some fresh air.” She led him out onto the nearby balcony and pulled him far from the doors. “Open it now.”

Jon chuckled and reached into his suit jacket to grab it. He frowned and dug around. “Oh no…”

Dany’s eyes went wide. “Did you lose it?”

Jon undid his suit jacket and took it off. He dug into every pocket he had and came up empty. “I lost it. Dany, I lost the letter Sansa gave me. Do you have any idea what it might have said?”

“I’m going to wager that she expressed her love for you.”

Jon scoffed at that. 

“Jon,” Dany said urgently. “I went to see her two days ago.”

He gaped at her. “You _what?!_ "

“You’ve miserable sod for the past three weeks. I had to do something! I went to…well, I went to yell at her for hurting my brother. And she told me she had been stupid. That she realized she loved you. I wanted her to come to the wedding so she could tell you…”

“She’s ill. Quite ill, according to Arya.”

“She did look rather pale when I saw her,” Dany murmured. “But she’d also just returned from her trip.”

“I need to see her. I need to see her now,” Jon said desperately. 

“Go. I’ll tell Mother and Father you had somewhere to be. If you go now I can hopefully stall the rest of the Starks from leaving so you’ll have some time alone with her.”

Jon grinned at her. “You are amazing, sister.”

She smiled proudly. “I know. Also, perhaps I can find that letter before it gets into the wrong hands.”

Inside the house, in the drawing room, Arya watched as Cersei Lannister unfolded a letter that looked quite familiar to her, and started to read it.


	30. Chapter 30

Arya heard a roaring in her ears as she realized exactly why that letter looked familiar to her. She stormed across the drawing room and snatched it from Cersei’s hands just as the woman’s face started to light up with glee. 

Cersei’s head snapped up in surprise at Arya, and Arya glared at her venomously. “You. Stupid. Cow. How did you get this letter?” she hissed. 

Cersei narrowed her eyes. “I found it on the floor.”

“So you just pick up something that could be private and read it?”

Cersei shrugged. “Of course.”

Aware now that they were drawing attention their way, Arya grabbed Cersei’s arm and dragged her with her into the hall. Cersei yelped and tried to twist away, but Arya held firm. 

Once they were in the hall, she let go.

“So it’s a secret then that Lord Jon Snow—” 

Arya struck her across the face before Cersei could finish. “You say anything to anyone about what was in that letter and I’ll tell everyone how you fuck your brother. You’ll both be driven out of good society quicker than Lord Byron was for having an affair with his half-sister!”

Cersei went pale, and her eyes went wide. What Arya had said had just been…speculation. The Lannister twins had always been a bit closer than what seemed normal. Of course no one would think to jump right to _that_ as what was going on between them, but every once in a while it would be something whispered behind a fan or in a darkened corner. Then summarily dismissed. 

However, now it appeared there was something to it. 

“Oh my. It’s true. You do!” Arya exclaimed. 

Cersei’s recovery wasn’t quick, nor was it convincing. “I do not!”

Arya laughed. “Liar! I wonder how your husband would feel about that. I also wonder what would happen to your reputation, not to mention your brother’s.”

“I said it’s not true!” Cersei exclaimed. 

Arya wasn’t sure if Cersei heard the hush that had fallen over the crowd in the drawing room. She had no doubt there were people eavesdropping on their conversation. Oh, payback had finally come for Cersei! 

“I don’t believe you,” Arya said. “I saw your face. The shock. The horror of discovery.” She slanted Cersei a deadly grin. “You’ll leave my sister alone from now on or I will tell everyone what I know. Do I make myself clear?”

Cersei pursed her lips together and tried to appear, no doubt, as demure as possible. “Crystal.”

“Any damage you’ve managed to do will be fixed. And quickly. Or I tell all.”

Arya smirked then, and walked off. She couldn’t wait to tell Sansa about how she’d made Cersei come to heel. But first, she had to find Jon and wallop him over the head for losing the letter in the first place. 

xxxxxx

Sansa had decided she’d stared long enough at the luncheon spread out before her, and was about to return to her bedchamber, when the butler came in to announce that Jon was there. 

Sansa’s heart leapt in her chest and tears filled her eyes. She’d missed him so much. She loved him so much. He must have read the letter and was here to either tell her he wanted to marry her still or that he’d decided he’d had enough. She’d already decided that if he did not want her any longer she would not tell him she was with child. She’d retire to the country and have the child there, away from the prying eyes of London. She would not burden Jon, and cause him to feel he had to marry her, instead she would set him free to pursue his happiness. It was what he deserved after all she’d put him through. 

“Please let him in,” Sansa said as she stood from the chair and smoothed her skirts. She clasped her hands together in front of her and waited. 

When she saw him again, her breath hitched. She bit her lip and clenched her hands to keep from crying at the joy and relief of seeing him again, and to keep herself from running to him. 

He stood there, just staring at her. Then, calmly, he closed the door and rushed toward her. Sansa reached out for him and in the next instant, she was in his arms. He held onto her as though he never meant to let go and Sansa allowed herself to cry tears of joy. This had to mean he still loved her. 

“Sansa,” he whispered urgently. “Sansa.” He gripped her face in his hands and kissed her hard. So hard she knew he’d bruise her lips. But she didn’t care for she kissed him back with the same passion and intensity. 

“You read the letter then,” she said when they parted for air. 

“Not exactly,” he said as he nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “I put it in my suit jacket before the ceremony and didn’t have a chance—”

“Jon, where is that letter?” Sansa demanded. 

“I am not sure. It must have fallen out. Dany told me what it probably said. She told me she saw you and that you loved me and realized you’d made a mistake.”

She nodded. “Yes, that is all true.”

“I missed you so much,” he whispered and kissed her again and again. His hands gripped her waist tight. “Don’t you dare ever leave me again,” he growled as he started to walk her backwards. 

“Jon, there’s…I have to tell you something,” she said just as the back of her knees hit the settee. Jon pushed her back onto it lengthwise and Sansa placed her hands on his chest to stop him. 

“I have something to tell you, too,” he murmured and pushed against her hands with his chest to kiss her again. “You’re going to marry me, Sansa. No more affair. No more sneaking around. I want you as my wife and I mean to have you as such.”

He was about to kiss her again when she blurted out, “I’m with child.”

Jon froze and pulled back a bit. He stared down at her, blinked. “Pardon?”

“I’m pregnant, Jon. I just found out this afternoon. I hadn’t felt very well the past week and I thought it was just exhausted and everything catching up to me, but then my mother sent for a doctor and…I’m pregnant. Obviously it’s yours.” When he still didn’t say anything, just looked at her in shock, Sansa forged ahead. “I didn’t know obviously that I could get pregnant. You know I thought all this time I was barren, but apparently when we last made love and there was that rip in the cundum. I’m sorry. I know it’s probably not what you wanted—”

“How could I not want a child with you, Sansa?” he asked softly, sounding awed. “You’re going to be my wife and you’re pregnant with my child. How could I not want all of that?”

“But it’s so soon – not to mention a complete surprise—”

“I don’t care. I want you. I love you.” He frowned. “You said you just found out today?”

She nodded. “Just a couple hours ago.” She knew exactly what he was thinking. “I wrote the letter before then, Jon. I saw Dany two days ago.”

“That’s right, that’s right,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, I just – I’m still wrapping my mind around the fact that you love me back and you’re going to marry me.” He narrowed his eyes. “You are going to marry me, right?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding adamantly. “I will.”

“Sansa, could you say it now? Tell me you love me? I want to hear it.”

She smiled up at him, her hand on the side of his face. She made sure he was looking in her eyes when she said it. “I love you, Jon Targaryen. I love you more than anything, and I will marry you. I will be your wife and now, apparently, have your child.”

Jon broke out into the biggest smile she had ever seen and she laughed with pure joy at the sight of it. She loved making him happy. It was thrilling to know she’d done that; she’d put that smile on his face. 

He kissed her again and again and when she felt his hand start to push her skirts up, she stopped him. “Jon, my family could arrive back home at any minute.”

“Dany said she’d stall them,” he muttered and tried again to push her skirts up. “Let me make love to you, Sansa. It’s been too long and we’re celebrating.”

“I’m sorry, but not now,” she said and pushed at him. 

He sighed and rested his head on her bosom. “When? I want to be alone with you. We’ve much to discuss still.”

She bit her lip. “How good are you at climbing trees?”

xxxxxxxxx

Arya knocked on Sansa’s bedchamber as soon as she and her family arrived home from the wedding breakfast. Catelyn had wanted to check on her, but Arya told her she’d go in her stead. It was better she go instead of their mother just in case Jon was still there. 

When Arya had gone in search of Jon at the Targaryen’s, she’d come across Dany who had pulled her aside to tell her she’d sent Jon off to see Sansa. Dany had enlisted her help in stalling Catelyn and Ned from leaving for a bit so Jon and Sansa could have some time alone. 

Arya had agreed and brought Dany up to speed about the letter and Cersei. The two had promised to do whatever it took to ensure Cersei did not spread gossip about Jon and Sansa. Arya told Dany about her conversation with Cersei and Dany had promised to keep the secret under wraps unless she absolutely had to spread it to keep Jon and Sansa out of scandal’s way. 

It had taken some doing to keep Catelyn and Ned from leaving for a while, but Arya and Dany together had managed it. And now, they were home and Arya feared that the couple might have lost themselves to passion or whatever it was that couples in love did when they were together. She thought of Gendry and her face reddened. She wouldn’t mind discovering just what couples did together with him. 

“Come in!” Sansa called out. 

Arya poked her head inside. “All clear?”

Sansa smiled from where she sat on her bed. “All clear. He’s left. For now.”

“For now?”

“I may have convinced him to return later. He’s going to climb the tree outside my window.”

Arya laughed. “My sister is so scandalous! I love it. You know, I can just sneak down and let him in, San.”

Sansa smiled. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel being an accomplice. I should have known better.”

“Indeed you should have.” Arya sat down on the bed. “I have so much to tell you!”

“Please start with the letter. I am rather concerned about where it ended up. Have you any idea?”

Arya nodded. “I do!” She told Sansa all that had happened at the wedding breakfast, watching her sister’s expressions change from fear to shock and then finally, horror. 

“Dany and I have it all under control,” Arya told her. “Cersei isn’t going to do a thing to cause any further scandal, this I promise you.”

Sansa smiled. “Thank you, Arya.”

“You’re welcome. So, what is the verdict then? Are you and Jon reunited?”

Sansa nodded. “I have a secret. I will tell only you.”

Arya grinned. “I like secrets.”

“I am with child.”

Arya’s jaw dropped. “But – but I thought—”

“I did too, but the doctor informed me of my condition this afternoon. You cannot tell Mother and Father. Let them figure it out after Jon and I have wed.”

“Goodness,” Arya breathed. “I hadn’t realized that you and Jon were…” She blushed. “Well. You _are_ scandalous.”

Sansa smiled. “I think life just may be more fun that way.” She cocked her head to the side. “You are all right with all of this?”

Arya nodded. “I never felt the same…excitement with Jon that I feel with Mr. Waters. Jon was just safe. I trusted him, and I got on well enough with him. But I do not love him the way that you do.”

Sansa smiled. “And Mr. Waters? You really like him?”

Arya nodded. “I do. I enjoy learning about him.”

“Good. Take it slow; do not rush.”

“I won’t. I promise. I can tell how different Jon is now that he is in love. You gave him a confidence he didn’t have before. It’s nice to see. And, I can tell that he makes you happy. You smile so brightly when just his name is mentioned. Well, perhaps not lately, but right now you are positively beaming.”

Sansa could feel it too. Her face hurt from smiling so much that afternoon. “Will you be my maid of honor?”

Arya beamed. “Of course!”

They hugged, and Sansa felt a new kind of joy – the joy of having a closer bond with her sister. 

“Now,” Arya said. “Tell me. What time is Jon coming back?”


	31. Chapter 31

It was late. Sansa glanced at the clock on the mantle in her bedchamber and frowned. It was almost one in the morning. Was Jon still coming? Had he changed his mind? Had something happ—

A scratch came at her door, and Sansa vaulted off her bed and rushed to it. She flung the door open, not caring how eager she appeared and broke into a beaming smile when she saw Jon standing there. His eyes bore into her and he strode inside, grabbed her about the waist, and kissed her. 

“You just couldn’t wait for a second longer until I’d left?” Arya drawled. 

Sansa broke the kiss and cleared her throat, looking over Jon’s shoulder at her sister. She nudged Jon, who glanced over his shoulder, not looking a bit repentant even when he said, “I’m sorry, Arya.”

Arya rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand as she started to swing the door shut. “Sure, sure.”

Jon wasted no time in kissing her again once the door was shut. He held her face in his hands and kissed her with such yearning, Sansa began to feel even more desperate for him. 

“Say it again,” he whispered. 

She smiled. “I love you.” She pulled free of him then. “Come, let’s go to bed.”

She’d taken not two steps and Jon was on her, pulling her back against him, his mouth nibbling at her ear and then nuzzling at her neck. He pulled open her robe and filled his hands with her breasts as he sucked on her neck. 

Sansa’s head tilted back and she moaned, wondering if they were actually even going to make it to the bed. Jon spun her around in his arms, panting. “I never want to be apart from you again, do you understand me?” 

She nodded, loving this rather demanding side to him. 

“Can we marry tomorrow?” he asked as she shed his coat, then his vest. 

Sansa smiled at him coyly. “No, darling, we can’t put together a wedding that quickly.”

“Then let’s make love now and leave for Gretna Green immediately.” He frowned and then shook his head. “No, scratch that. Let’s go to Gretna Green now and make love in the carriage.” He started to pick up his coat off the floor, and Sansa laughed and stopped him with her hand on his arm. 

“No, my love, we will have a proper wedding. It will already have to be quick so the scandal will not be too great when I give birth a few months after our nuptials. I don’t want to cause an even greater one by eloping. Not to mention our families and how they will react and then—”

Jon put his hand over her mouth, halting her speech. “We will sort it all out,” he said. “If you don’t want to elope then we won’t. We’ll do it all proper-like. I don’t care if we marry in Hyde Park or in a stable full of horses and manure.”

“Jon!”

He grinned. “As long as I get to marry my proper lady, I don’t care how it’s done as long as it’s done.”

She smiled, not wanting to call attention to the fact that she was a bit concerned about how her family and his would take it. More so his than hers. His brother, his parents – at least Dany was on their side. 

“If you don’t mind,” Jon continued as he undid his cravat and then tugged it off. “I’m quite mad for you and would like to ravish you now.”

She smiled and pushed her robe off, letting it pool around her to the floor. “Please do.”

Jon tugged his shirt off and tossed it to the floor and reached eagerly for her only to then halt and look at her with a frown. “It won’t hurt the baby?”

Sansa shook her head. “No, the um, doctor told me that I could continue all…um, relations.”

He grinned and pulled her to him. “Wonderful.” He kissed her soundly and rather quickly, and then dropped to his knees, leaving Sansa rather bewildered and dazed. 

She wondered what in the devil he was doing when he lifted her nightrail and ducked under it, parting her legs a bit with his hands. 

“Jon,” she panted. ‘Surely, we could make it to the - oooh!” 

“Quiet, my love, or all that sneaking in I did will be for naught,” he said, his words muffled by her, er, muff. 

Sansa gripped his shoulders and held on tight, knowing that he’d have her peaking in no time flat. As he stabbed his tongue inside her while rubbing her little bud with his finger, she wondered if he’d been practicing or was just very enthusiastic and adventurous tonight. 

She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because in the next instant, she was peaking so hard she thought she might fall over. “Jon!” she gasped as he kept lapping at her like a kitten on her bud. But then, the sensation was too much and she pushed at him. He pulled her nightrail up and leaned back on his heels, grinning up at her as he licked his lips and then wiped his face with the hem. 

Sansa blushed; she couldn’t help it. 

Then, Jon was up and on his feet, pulling her nightrail up as he straightened. He yanked it over her head and then tossed it to the floor. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He placed her down, watching her scoot to the center of it while he finished undressing. 

His cock was hard and leaking, and Sansa licked her lips at the sight of it. He must have seen it because he groaned as he looked at her with heated eyes. With a wolfish grin, Sansa got up on her knees and crawled over to him. She crouched down and took him in her mouth, licking at his essence. 

“Sansa, God,” he gasped, his hands tangling in her hair. 

Yet, she didn’t get very far because no sooner had she gotten his length in her mouth than he was pushing her away. She straightened up on her knees. “Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head as he nudged her onto her back on the bed. “No, sweetling, it’s just that I want you too much, and I want to come inside your sweet cunt, not your mouth. Not this time anyway.”

Sansa sucked in a sharp breath. “What’s happened to you?” she murmured as he settled in between her thighs. “You’re so bold and a bit crass…”

“Do you not like it?” he asked, brows furrowed. 

“On the contrary,” she said. “I rather like it a lot. Where did it come from?”

He smiled and then kissed her before answering. “It came from not wanting to hide what I feel and what I want any longer. It came from the fear of never having you in my arms again. It came from watching you and how brave and strong you are.”

She sighed. “I’m not that brave. If I was, I would have admitted to myself and to you what I felt a lot sooner.”

“That’s in the past,” he said with conviction. “All that matters now is we’re together now, and we’re going to stay together. I will fight for what we have until my last breath.”

“Hopefully, it won’t take our families that long to come around,” Sansa murmured and ran a hand through his hair. “I love you, Jon.”

He kissed her, long and deep, and then nosed at her cheek. “I’ll never tire of hearing that.”

“Jon?”

“Yes?”

“Will you get inside me now, please? You said you were mad for me, but you’ve yet to – oooh!”

“Better?” he asked huskily. 

She nodded adamantly, loving the feeling of being so incredibly full of him. 

He began to move slowly, keeping his gaze locked on her as he pumped inside her. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “So smart and perfect.”

“Not perfect,” she said as she ran the tips of her fingers along his face and then over his shoulder and down his side. She grabbed hold of his arse and pulled him in even closer. He thrust harder, faster. 

“Perfect for me,” he said. “The first time I saw you, you took my breath away.”

She laughed softly. “Any woman that spoke to you took your breath away.”

He shook his head. “No, not like with you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Couldn’t help but want to know every single thing about you.”

Sansa kissed him, nibbling lightly on his bottom lip. He groaned and moved so that he could press her legs back further as he knelt between them. “Is this all right?” he asked. “It won’t hurt the baby?”

“It’s fine, Jon,” she murmured. “I knew a woman once in France who boasted about all the sex she and her husband had while she was heavy with child. I’m not even heavy yet.”

His gaze went to her flat stomach and he placed a hand there. “But you will be,” he said with an almost feral glean in his eye. It caused Sansa’s heart to race and her cunt to tingle even more. 

He locked eyes with her as he began to thrust even harder and faster. He slid his hand down to her cunt and strummed his thumb over her bud. “I need you to come for me again, Sansa,” he ordered. “It’s been too long without you, and I’m not going to last much longer.”

She nodded, feeling her peak coming soon. Her stomach clenched, her breath caught, and she turned her head and bit into her fist as she came. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl. My Sansa, my sweetling, my wife.” He thrust hard once, twice, and then he cried out, “Sansa!” as he held himself inside of her and came. 

He let go of her legs then and she slid them back to the bed, still trembling from her orgasm. Jon all but fell onto his side after pulling out of her, and he gathered up in his arms and kissed her forehead. “My God, I love you,” he whispered hoarsely. 

She smiled dazedly and kissed his chin. He grinned a bit sleepily and then caught her lips in a kiss. “I like not wearing a cundum,” he said. “I like feeling all of you wrapped around my cock.”

Sansa smirked and looked up at him in faux wonder. “Whatever happened to the virginal boy who first shared my bed?”

He pushed her onto her back and urged her legs to wrap around him. “You turned him into a man. And soon,” he said with a lopsided grin as he lowered his face to kiss her, “a husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just trying to make up for the fact that they were not on together last night :(


	32. Chapter 32

“You can’t fall asleep, Jon,” Sansa said softly as she nudged his foot with hers. They were laying side-by-side in her bed, facing each other, the covers down around their waists. Every once in a while, Jon’s gaze would descend to her bare breasts, but she knew he didn’t have another go in him left. He couldn’t possibly. She nudged him again. “You have to return home lest anyone discover you here.”

For the past several hours they’d alternated between making love and talking. Jon had wanted to know what had happened the night she’d been attacked by Petyr, and though Sansa wanted nothing more than to never think about that incident again, she told him. It still made her tremble to think about and Jon had held her close in his arms as if he sought to protect her from her own memories.

“Arya told you I stopped by to see you, yes?” he’d asked.

Sansa had nodded slightly her head tucked under his chin. “She did. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for that. Of course I came to see you after hearing about it. I was worried about you.”

“Jon, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want to just put it in the past and leave it there. It was ruled as self-defense and I highly doubt anyone will actually miss Petyr Baelish.” She moved back a bit so she could look at him. “I’d much rather hear about how you’d been in your cups after we’d parted…? Your sister said you were positively unbearable.”

Jon had groaned, but told her about how he’d gone out almost every night after he’d gotten her letter officially ending things, and had taken to tagging alone with a bunch of “friends”. “I visited gaming hells and went to their clubs…somehow I managed not to lose anything. Or at least not very much.”

Sansa had looked at him suspiciously. “Did you by chance visit any brothels?”

He’d reddened and Sansa had gone tense. She had no right to be upset with him if he did. She had been the one to end things after all. 

“I went with them once,” he’d admitted. “But I couldn’t…” He’d looked at her then, with so much love in his eyes it stole her breath. “You’re the only woman for me, Sansa. I couldn’t…the memory of us was still fresh in my mind…” He’d ducked his head, looking a bit ashamed. “I did think about it. I thought if I fucked one of them and you heard about it, it would hurt you.” He’d looked positively guilt-ridden then. “I was just so hurt and miserable I wanted to you to feel what I did. But I just couldn’t go through with it.”

She’d reached out and cupped the side of his face. “I understand. Truly, I do.” She hadn’t wanted to add that she had felt similar urges with Harry in the beginning. “If it makes you feel any better, I was hurt and miserable too.”

“It doesn’t make me feel better…and yet at the same time it does.”

She’d smiled at how perplexed he looked by that.

And then they’d made languid love, Jon seeming intent on finding every part of Sansa’s body that made her moan. Now, he was falling asleep and he had to leave soon before all the servants were up and about. Except, he didn’t appear inclined to do that.

“Jon.”

“I’m getting up, I’m getting up,” he said on a sigh and sat up.

Sansa reached out and used her hand to draw nonsensical patterns on his back. “Just think. Soon you won’t have to leave my bed. Soon it’ll be our bed.”

That was perhaps the wrong thing to say – or the right thing, depending on how one looked at it.

Jon pounced on her, that was really the only way to explain how he was on her in a flash. Sansa let out a squeal of surprise and then slapped a hand over her mouth. Jon just grinned wolfishly.

And that was how they’d ended up making love yet again.

“My love, I hate to say it,” Sansa said breathlessly as they both came down from the highs, Jon’s head pillowed on her breasts, “But you definitely need to leave now.”

He grumbled and groused his way through getting up and dressing, even though Sansa helped him best she could. She even put on a robe for him. When he was dressed and reluctant to go, she took his face in her hands and kissed him. “I love you,” she said softly.

“I swear I’ll never tire of hearing that,” he rasped and kissed her again.

Before things could escalate once again, Sansa pushed at him and shooed him towards the door. She rather felt like a fool tiptoeing down the hall and then down the stairs, keeping an eye and ear out for any servants that could have started their chores early. It wouldn’t be long now, the sun was just starting to rise.

But, it wasn’t until Jon was out the door – after one last kiss – that Sansa was able to breathe right. She pressed her back against the door, noting how her body ached. Ached in the best way though. It was a reminder that the night – and the day had happened. She and Jon were reconciled. They were madly in love. And they would be getting married _and_ having a child. Though a part of her still feared both the marriage and the child, she held onto the fact that she was marrying Jon. He was a good man and he treated her like a Queen.

This marriage, she determined, would not end up like hers to Harry. 

xxxxxx

Jon was exhausted, but pleasantly so. He was ecstatic! He was in love! He was getting married! 

Sure, the last bit sort of scared him, not because he wasn't sure about marrying Sansa, he was, it was just he didn't know what being a husband actually meant outside of providing for her - though she had money and didn't really need his. He would protect her though,that was something he could do. He could protect her from all the Petyr Baelish's of the world. If she let him. Sansa seemed to bristle at needing any sort of insistence, but certainly now she wouldn't object? It was the only thing he could think to do for her outside of simply loving her. 

But, perhaps, that was it. Perhaps that was all they needed to do. Just love each other. He and Sansa were fine when left to their own devices. Now that they were on the same page, they were more than fine. They were perfect. 

Jon hummed as he walked home, feeling perhaps he could even dance down the sidewalk despite how his body craved rest. The sun was coming up and he smiled at it, greeted it with a shout, and then hurried away when someone shouted at him to shut his gob. 

xxxxxxx

Sansa awoke close to noon and suffered concerned questions from her parents and sly smiles from Arya over luncheon. She kept looking at the clock wondering if Jon was up, and if so, had he told his parents about wanting to marry her?

"Are you still not feeling well, Sansa?" her mother asked as she frowned at Sansa's nearly full plate. 

Sansa picked up a piece of bread and shoved it in her mouth. "I'm fine, Mother. Just not quite awake yet."

Catelyn watched her closely. "So the doctor said that you were well? That it was just the travel?"

"Exactly that," Sansa chirped and grabbed some meat off her plate despite how hungry she did _not_ feel. 

Catelyn asked Ned something then and her attention, thankfully, was elsewhere for the rest of lunch.

xxxxxxxx

Jon's father looked at him over his reading glasses and said, "What?"

Jon felt some wind puff right out of his sails. He'd come in to his father's office first thing to tell him that he was going to marry Sansa. He'd puffed out his chest, held his head high, and declared himself just like a Lord would. Just like his brother would. And this was the response. 

"I'm going to ask Sansa - Lady Arryn to marry me," he said again. 

Rhaegar stared at him. "Sansa...the one your brother was after?"

"Yes."

"Arya Stark's eldest sister? Widowed?"

"Yes."

"So you're not going to marry Arya."

"No."

Rhaegar sat back, frowned, and then got up and went to the door. He opened it and called out. "Lyanna, get in here!"

Jon sighed and rolled his eyes wondering what this was all about. 

His brother, coming down the hall had the same thought apparently for he came down the hallway, practically skidding to a stop in front of the door. "What's going on?" he asked their father. 

"That's what I'd like to know. Jon here wants to marry your Lady Arryn--"

"She's not his," Jon ground out. 

"She most certainly is not. Not after that set down she gave me," Aegon said. He pointed at their father. "Didn't I tell you?"

"I must have forgot," Rhaegar said dryly. 

"What is going on?" Lyanna asked as she entered the study. "Why are you all standing about? What's happening?"

Rhaegar pointed at Jon. "Our son wishes to marry Lady Arryn."

Lyanna looked at Jon in surprise. "Not Arya?"

Jon heaved a long suffering sigh. "No. Not Arya. Sansa."

"Well, Arya and Arryn sound so similar, and there is that friendship you have with the little one," Lyanna said. "I thought Sansa was meant for Aegon."

"Not anymore," Aegon said, staring at his brother. "When the bloody hell did this happen?"

"What's going on in here?" 

Jon would have thrown up his hands in frustration had he not been relieved to see Dany show up. "I told them I want to marry Sansa," Jon informed her. 

Dany beamed. "Finally!"

Rhaegar and Aegon both pointed at her and said at the same time, "You knew about this?"

Dany linked her arm through Jon's. "I did. And I approve."

And then everyone started talking at once and Jon wished he had snatched Sansa away to Gretna Green after all.


	33. Chapter 33

Sansa had given up all hope that she would see Jon today. In fact, she’d convinced herself that it was not meant to be at all. His parents must have demanded he give her up. Tears welled up in her eyes as she paced the length of her bedchamber. They should have run away to Gretna Green last night after all. 

She was about to give into the tears that wanted to fall when Arya burst through her door, looking excited. “Jon’s here!” she exclaimed. “His carriage just pulled up!”

Sansa rushed to her window and peered down. Sure enough, there was Jon, alighting from the carriage. He looked up as though he sensed her watching him. He broke out into a grin and Sansa emitted a cry of joy. Everything was all right. He was here to officially declare himself.

Not caring how unladylike it was, Sansa rushed from the room to greet him at the front door. Arya bounded after her. Sansa minded the stairs though. There were a lot of them and in her condition it would not do to fall. 

Arya had no such qualms however. She was right there at the door when it opened and Jon was let inside. Jon grinned at her and then when he saw Sansa, he strode forward to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Hello, my love,” he greeted her, taking the hand that Sansa offered him. He kissed the back of it and then held onto it, squeezing gently. “Is your father about?”

“Jon,” Sansa breathed. “All is well?”

He nodded and patted the pocket of his suit jacket as he winked at her. What in the world did that mean? “Quite well,” he said. 

“You don’t have to talk to my father,” she told him. “I’m in complete charge this time around.”

“Just the same. I’ve been a close family friend for quite some time now, and I don’t want to give your father and mother any reason to doubt me and my ability to be a respectful husband and gentleman.”

She smiled. “Very well then.” This was just one part of why she loved him. He was so thoughtful, and so incredibly romantic. 

“I’ll get him!” Arya offered. 

“Get who?”

There was no need to fetch Ned, as he had just arrived. He smiled and Jon and his daughters, and then his gaze dropped to where Jon and Sansa were still holding hands and his smile faltered. “Is something amiss?”

“May I speak with you alone, My Lord?” Jon asked, suddenly sounding and looking quite nervous. 

Ned’s brows raised and he glanced at Sansa and Jon’s clasped hands once again. “Of course,” he murmured. “My study?”

Jon nodded and then looked at Sansa who smiled encouragingly at him. He followed Ned down the hall to his study and Sansa bit her lip as she watched them go. 

“Don’t worry, sister,” Arya chirped. “Everything is going to be fine.”

xxxxxxxxx

“I believe you’ve something to tell me?” Ned said once he and Jon were safely ensconced in his study. 

“Something I would like to ask you, actually,” Jon said nervously. 

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it has something to do with how I just saw you holding hands with my daughter?”

Jon nodded. 

Ned sat behind his desk and regarded Jon thoughtfully, his hand steepled in front of him. “You wish to marry Sansa?”

Jon nodded again. “I do. Very much so. I love her, My Lord. And she loves me.”

“Let’s just dispense with the ‘My Lord’ business, Jon. It’s unneeded considering how close our families are.”

“Yes, of course,” Jon said on a sigh. “I just wish for you to know how much I respect you—”

“I’ve never known you to be disrespectful to me or any part of my family,” Ned said. “However, since it is my daughter you are here to talk to me about, I should remind you that it’s not just me you must continue to be respectful towards, but her.”

“I would never do anything to bring any disrespect to Sansa,” Jon said passionately. “She – I love her quite ardently, Ned. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. First and foremost though, I would take care with her heart. I know how it has been broken in the past, and I know that she has had her reservations about marrying again.”

“And yet you’ve somehow broken down the walls she’s built up.”

“I believe she is meant for me. That perhaps she has always been meant for me. I cannot imagine another as my wife and companion through life.”

Ned smiled. “Ah, you are a romantic aren’t you?”

“So I’m told.”

Ned chuckled. “Well, I must say that I am a bit surprised it’s not Arya you’re here to discuss.”

Jon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “My family was surprised as well. Arya and I are good friends, but we lack the spark of…of…”

“Attraction?”

Jon felt his face redden and nodded. “Precisely.”

“May I ask when this, uh, attraction was discovered with Sansa? Was it the book club?”

“Yes,” Jon said. It had started there at least. 

Ned nodded slowly. “You were always a good boy,” Ned said. “And you’ve become a good man. I find it hard to believe you would do Sansa wrong, but you do realize that there will be hell to pay if you do not deliver on being a good husband to her? You need to be the man she deserves, which happens to be the complete antithesis of her late husband. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Jon nodded adamantly. “I would never do what he did to Sansa, Ned. I can’t…” He shook his head in bewilderment. “I cannot imagine anyone having Sansa as their wife and doing what he did. She is the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful woman—”

Ned held up a hand, cutting Jon off. “Yes, I can see – and hear – that you are quite taken with Sansa. Good. Keep it that way.”

“Forever and always,” Jon said effusively. 

Ned smiled. “You have my permission to wed Sansa, Jon.”

Jon beamed at him, feeling his entire being relax. “Thank you, Ned. Thank you!”

“May I ask how the news was received by your parents?”

Jon sighed. “Well, they were surprised. They thought I meant to wed Arya as well. They were a bit concerned about our age difference, but in the end they accepted it. They had no choice, really.”

Ned smiled again. “No, I suppose they would not.” He pushed up to his feet. “Would you like to see Sansa?”

“Please,” Jon said eagerly. 

Ned chuckled and patted Jon on the back as he walked past him to the door. He opened it and called out, “Sansa, my – oh, well, I should have known you’d be waiting here. Darling girl, why don’t you go in and see your Jon before he perishes? When you’re done, give a shout would you? I believe we have some celebrating to do.”

In the next instant, Ned was gone and Jon and Sansa were alone. Jon wasted no time in gathering her up in his arms and kissing her soundly. “My love,” he murmured. 

“What did your parents say?” Sansa asked immediately. 

Jon smiled. “They’ve put the heat on Aegon to wed and bear heirs. I feared I would have to tell them about your, uh, condition, but they could see I was determined to wed you and so they gave their blessing.”

Sansa smiled. “Well, I’m sure it will come as a surprise for everyone when we have our child.”

Jon’s hand drifted to her belly and he placed his hand there. “I still can’t believe it, Sansa. You’re making me a husband and a father.”

She smirked. “Soon enough. But first we need a wedding.”

“Right then. That is my cue.”

She looked at him in confusion. “Cue for what?”

When he got down on one knee, she understood. She bit her lip around a smile and watched him reach into the pocket of his suit jacket. Out came a black box. Now she understood what he’d meant when he’d patted his pocket. 

“This is partly what took me so long,” Jon told her and opened the box. It was a gorgeous sparkling sapphire stone set in gold. Sansa gasped and just _stared_ at it. “After I talked to my parents, Aegon and Dany insisted on accompanying me to get you a proper ring. I wanted one the color of your eyes.”

“ _Aegon_ helped you?” she asked in surprise, still staring at the ring. 

Jon nodded, laughing softly. “Indeed.”

“I figured he must hate me after—”

“Sansa?”

She shifted her gaze to him. “Yes?” 

“I’d like to propose now.”

Sansa smiled broadly and gestured for him to carry on with it. “Please.”

“Sansa Hardyng.”

“Stark.”

He began again. “Sansa Stark, you are the only woman for me. I know this as well as I know my own name. I would go to the ends of the Earth for you if you wished it.”

She smiled impishly. “And what would get there for me, at the ends of the Earth?”

She could see Jon was struggling not to smile and remain serious. “ _Sansa_.”

“Right. Sorry.”

He heaved a deep sigh and then blurted out rather quickly as though he was afraid she’d actually say no, “Willyoumarryme?”

She thought to tease him again, make him slow down, especially since the build up to the actual proposal had been so sweet, but she could see he was actually nervous she might say no. “Yes, Jon, I will marry you.”

He practically jumped to his feet and after slipping the ring on her finger, kissed her hungrily. When he parted to let them breathe, he said, “So, how soon can a wedding be put together?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left! :)


	34. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The End. I hope you all enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I appreciate every single one of you! :)

**Two Years Later**

Jon stood with his back against the wall as he watched his wife laugh and dance in the arms of another man. The man was her brother, though, so he was fine with it. He smiled at the sight of her so happy and felt his own happiness bubbling up inside of him. 

“I thought you gave up being a wallflower?” Arya asked as she came up beside him. 

“Some habits are hard to break,” he said and then nodded to the dance floor. “Besides, I have a good view of my wife dancing with Robb from here.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Ugh. You two are so disgustingly romantic and sweet, even after two years of marriage.”

Jon chuckled. “I wouldn’t complain too loudly, Arya. I saw you and your husband sneaking a few kisses behind that potted plant in the corner not too long ago.”

Arya reddened a bit but didn’t reply to his teasing. “How’s my goddaughter?”

“Rhaenys is just fine. She’s at home with her nanny, probably asleep by now.” He sighed. 

Arya smirked. “You miss her already, don’t you?”

“This is the first ball Sansa and I have been to where we didn’t rush home to put her to bed. So, yes, I do.”

“In most households, it’s customary for the nanny to put the children to bed.”

“Not in our household,” Jon said imperiously. “Sansa and I did not want to be like most parents in the ton. We wanted to make sure our daughter knew she was loved and could be seen and heard.”

Arya smiled. “You two are wonderful parents, Jon. Rhaenys definitely has you wrapped around her little finger.”

Jon’s smile was lopsided as he watched Robb come toward him with Sansa on his arm. “Just like her mother,” he murmured. 

“Well, well,” Robb said when he was closer, “seeing you two against the wall like this brings back memories.”

Jon rolled his eyes as he offered his arm to his wife. She came up beside him, slinging her arm through his and smiled at him. He grinned, wishing he could kiss her. Yet another thing that “wasn’t done” among the ton. Although, he and Sansa did often flout the standards of society pretty often so maybe he could get away with it…

“Oh, I want to go over and see Margaery and Jeyne for a minute,” Sansa said and slipped away from him. “I’ll be right back!”

Jon sighed and glanced at his pocket watch. He hadn’t even had a chance to dance with his wife tonight. Not that he hadn’t had the opportunity, it was just that he wasn’t very good at it still even with Sansa working with him. He didn’t care about the steps, though; he just cared about the fact that he got to hold Sansa in his arms. 

“Did you hear that Lady Cersei has pulled a Byron?” Arya asked. 

Jon and Robb looked at her, brows arched. “Pardon?” Robb said as his wife came up beside him. He grinned at Talisa and said, “Arya was just telling us that Lady Cersei has pulled a Byron.”

Talisa’s eyes brightened with mischief. “I heard the same thing!”

“What does it mean?” Jon asked. 

“It means that she was caught out having, uh, relations with her brother and was forced to leave. She’s ended up in Greece, just like the disgraced and scandalous before her,” Arya informed them. 

“And,” Talisa said, “I heard that her husband is seeking a _divorce_.”

Jon frowned. “I don’t feel right gossiping about them like this.”

Arya rolled her eyes.

“How’s your sister, Jon?” Robb asked. 

Jon smiled. “She’s well. Getting ready to have her baby soon. Drogo barely lets her walk across the room without hovering over her. It’s a bit much.”

They all looked at him, aghast. He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Do you not remember how you were when Sansa started to show?” Robb asked him. “I think if you could have carried her everywhere you would have.”

“I thought Sansa was going to smother you with a pillow if you didn’t leave her alone,” Arya said. 

“And I recall that we weren’t allowed to throw rice at your wedding because you feared her slipping on it and falling,” Talisa added. 

“That meant explaining why you didn’t want rice without giving away the fact that she was with child,” Robb reminded him. “I still say I should punch you for getting her pregnant before you were married.”

“I wouldn’t be too hard on him, dear,” Talisa said with an arched brow. “I remember the liberties you took before we were wed.”

Sansa chose that moment to come up beside Jon. She was still smiling, and still radiant. Marriage, Jon thought, suited her well. Or at least marriage to him did. There was no longer any trace of the once bitten twice shy woman who had been married to a philanderer before. There was just Sansa: happy and confident in her marriage and with herself. “What’d I miss?” she asked. 

“I’ll tell you while we dance,” Jon said and held out his hand to her. “May I finally have the honor of this dance, wife?”

“Of course, husband,” she said with a grin. 

“I’ve barely had any time with you tonight,” Jon said as he turned Sansa about the room. He was doing well. So far he’d only stepped on her foot once. 

“Darling, you know you could have danced with me at any time,” she told him. 

“Yes, I know, but what I really want is more than a dance…”

Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at him. “Oh?”

He smirked and twirled her towards the direction of the potted plant in the corner. Once they were behind it, Jon pulled her even closer and kissed her. “That’s what I’ve wanted,” he breathed. 

Sansa smiled at him and fingered the edges of his cravat. “You know, we could always say we received an urgent note from the nanny that Rhaenys is not feeling well and we need to return home.”

Jon beamed at her. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

“Do you suppose, though, we could kiss a little more here?” she asked, looking at him coyly from under her lashes. “I’ve never had the opportunity to take advantage of hiding behind potted plants before.”

“I’ve never had occasion to use them for anything else but hiding from ballroom attendees,” Jon drawled. 

Sansa giggled and leaned in until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. “I love you, Jon.”

He smiled and kissed her passionately. “And I love you, my wife.”

As it turned out, they were so lost in one another it was quite some time before they emerged and made their excuses so they could hurry home and continue the rest of their evening in their bedchamber.


End file.
